That’s it?

Is it?

 That is kind of the million-dollar question right now. Is what I am feeling part of the overall despondence brought about by my mental illness? Could the harrowing exhaustion, anger and hopelessness that is completely incapacitating me be tethered to my being a ‘basket case’. I have well for months now racked my mind on whether my lack of motivation to be a remotely normal functioning human being was because I damn well couldn’t. It has been the utter bane of my existence. Trust me, there is only so much of the same thought that can plague you over and over again before your mind is ready to jump over the deep end. 

I believe it is not stated enough how the term depression sometimes tends to feel a tad bit too linear. For me at least, it no longer embodies the tumultuous nature and degree of detachment that precedes having major depression. Hence the question, ’That’s it?’. It surely can’t just be it anymore, not when it feels like I unlock a highly complex level of this ailment every other time that I am bound to experience an episode of it. It surely also doesn’t help that it is entirely possible to experience many of the symptoms of depression without being psychologically unwell. Many a time I have struggled to come to terms with the awareness that this illness seems to spread a lot like wildfire among my peers because surely, they wouldn’t be experiencing the same kind of agony I seem to carry around every waking moment. The gravity that there may be a chance that they are going through the same degree of despondence as I am is truthfully heartbreaking.

My experience within this realm of psychological turmoil surely no longer fits within the box that is depression. I am no longer of the meagre notion that depression isn’t just sadness. If the tumultuousness of my pain is anything close to what is truly defined as depression, then it should be made well aware that depression was never sadness, to begin with.


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