I have a reason to get up in the morning, that isn’t myself.
But my depression lingers like a stifling blanket. I can’t rid myself of this feeling, these feelings. Many of them have no words, and some that do, I’m to ashamed, scared to say aloud. I’m not one of those depressives who gets better with meds, or therapy.
I get to a point where I don’t want to get better, not because I enjoy the feeling, but because I’m too depressed to be bothered.
I remember so many times how I’d come Home from therapy feeling like a tota waste of space and a failure, because I’ve just sat there and tried to change negative thoughts with this therapist, trying to battle it and internally I’m just thinking “why bother with all this” therapy makes me feel worse, it reminds me of the effort I have to put in. And “why the fuck bother!” But I can’t say that. Because then people turn away from you, they see that you’re just a black hole trying to suck up anything you can just to try and get through the night more comfortably. Because they’ll see that I’m helpless too, I want them to know I feel helpless, but they can’t also know that I feel it because I am helpless. It just means being left alone to suffer and the best I can hope is that it will push me to taking the rope and really do it. Otherwise I’m just alive in a sea of endless turmoil seeking out anything to comfort me, only to find the comfort isn’t real. I go through the motions with people, because I’m drowning and going through the motions is the only way I keep a float.