Today I’m gonna go straight in cause I don’t wanna loose my drift or train of thought. So I truly had an eventful past week. Eventful in that I got called fat, old and had an anxiety attack all in a span of a couple days. I can definitely say I was on a roll. Sadly, not the good kind. So to break it down for you, I’m back to school after a long eight months of being out of it.. both literally & figuratively. I won’t go into the details of the reasons why school’s back in session, its probably happening all over the world so you can take a guess on why I had to resume. It’s my last semester in college and boy am I glad. School is just one of the things that have never ever appealed to me. Its always been a circumstantial issue for me, never voluntary. If I may say so myself, I’ve hated school since I was in daycare. Anything that required me to get out of the house for an entire day in such an excruciatingly pressurized experience, never did suit me.

So yeah, back to reopening school. It being my last semester, means that I’ve got my major final exam right around the corner and it entails a project that I had already started on at the beginning of the year in my first semester. But before I even get to that, let me bring you into things in a more chronological manner. Day one was on Wednesday and I started off my term by sitting for exams that had been prior cut short right at the beginning due to the surge of covid so it meant that right after school opened, we’d resume our exams which explains why I was sitting for a paper on my first day back. Wednesday morning, I gracefully arrive in class, somewhat set to sit for my first paper and since it had been a while since my classmates had seen each other, they was already a buzz in the air of people catching up on how they’ve been. Your girl here, quiet & in her element of silence & seclusion only said hi when greeted first. I’m not what one would consider approachable to my peers, I just rather not have people be comfortable airing their lives or opinions to me cause I’ll probably drift off somewhere in my mind but I guess due to the prolonged period of absence, a classmate of mine whom to be specific I’m not so fond of, came over to my seat and was blatantly open enough to tell me how “big” I had grown and further went ahead to ask me what exactly had I been eating over that period out of school. I honestly truly try never to let such comments and snide remarks get to me on most days but this just hit a nerve. She wasn’t done though, oh no! While walking away to her seat she finalized her opinion of how ‘old looking ‘ I’ve become…. Now this just threw me off a loop and I just smiled and shrugged it off.

Her words stayed with me. It got to me. Maybe it was the way she said it or the snide tone behind her words that struck a nerve. Whichever it was, it warranted a punch to her throat. For those who may not be aware, I’m meek on the outside but I’m very violent on the inside, especially when it comes to being vengeful. It wasn’t her assumption of that I probably ate a lot over the period I was out of school that ticked me off, it was her stupidity & insensitivity in believing I cared of what she thought of me. “For your information, Joan, the extra weight on me is from the different amounts and types of antidepressants I’ve had to be on to stay alive, you insensitive piece of shit “. It doesn’t matter if she was aware of why I am bigger than she last left me, she should have kept her two cents to herself cause she unconsciously planted an insecurity I didn’t need on my first day back. Weirdly enough, she wasn’t the only one daft enough to make that comment to me, a few other girls in my class who I might mention are nothing more than just classmates, thought it was in their place to tell me about how big I’ve become. I’m gonna leave this at that cause it truly isn’t my responsibility to coach anyone on being sensitive. It’s a conscious effort from the mind, clearly not everyone has it.

Right now, the pressure is high in school and I don’t work well under pressure. I get anxious and it topples down from there rendering me completely in a state of panic. Besides my exams, I’ve got a back log of work that I should probably have been done with but didn’t get around to completing, ie my project. After a day of being back in town, I enquired from a few school mates on where they were at in their projects and most of them are done. That and learning of it’s due date being sooner than I expected, put me in a complete state of anxiety. It made feel cornered and I just wanted to hide back in my bedroom at home where it’s been my safe haven. I didn’t think being depressed would be reason valid enough to explain why I never got around to completing my project which carries part of my exams points for my final exam. My productivity was pretty much non existent ; I could only basically handle waking up and trying to live through the day but despite being aware of this, I still feel like I failed at trying to do anything productive. When I told my sister about how I was panicking and was just about to quit school and run away, she asked me about the days when I wasn’t as depressed, and why I didn’t work on it on those days. Truthfully speaking, that just aggravated my guilt on how unmotivated I was to do anything. It sure didn’t help with the anxiety, it pretty much heightened it.

For the past one month or so, I’ve been on a quest to get the right diagnosis for what exactly ails me. I’m not advocating for self prognosis. It isn’t right but for my case, all I’ve felt and still feel is helplessness when it comes to not having a concrete understanding of what happens to me when I go into a depressive state of mind. My mind has conjured everything and anything under the sun to try make sense of what goes wrong but even with my search for an answer, I still intend to get a professional psychiatrical opinion and evaluation. Besides wanting to know what goes wrong, I want to finally have the validity of reason to explain why certain things for me are more difficult to either achieve or to stop. It is frustrating not feeling valid even in turmoil and darkness. It begs the question of how do I prove to the world that I don’t always have an answer for what happens to me or for why I do or feel or react to things in a certain way. How do I prove that it’s not just all in my head and that there’s a messed up reason for the things that happen. I know I shouldn’t try to prove it to anyone, I owe it to no one. I know it’s an illness but I need the world around me not to look at me like some narcissistic cynic who slits her wrist for pleasure. I don’t know if I’m making sense anymore, or at all.

So here I am, still trying to calm down from the anxiety and formulate a plan on how to start working again on my project in a more clear mind. So that’s been my eventful first week back in school, I’m the fat old lady with anxiety 😊…

P. S I took this cute photos of myself today cause I felt like I’ve not seen myself remotely look pretty in forever so I’m going to share this with you just cause I think they are kinda cute.😄

Hello.. To no one in particular.. It’s been a while. At least for me it feels like its been a long while. Thought I’d take a well deserved time out from writing cause for the longest I didn’t feel like I was truly letting out my thoughts and feelings as candidly as I had hoped too…not that I’m sure of myself as of now on whether this will be as articulate and precise as I want it to be. Like always, I have no sense of direction with what I’m writing right now but sometimes it’s just therapeutic for me to kinda go with the flow & let free of whatever that is swirling through my mind. For starters, it’s been quite the chaotic last couple months of my life. Calling it a rollercoaster sometimes doesn’t cut it, it doesn’t fully delve into just how exhausting & frustrating the cycle that is my mental state seems to get sometimes, if not all the time. I’ve felt everything and nothing all at the same time. Every inch of me knows chaos & turmoil so personally that I can’t seem to pick out the difference between the two anymore . I’ve felt the lose of bits of myself and the slow gradual process of becoming empty inside & hollow in different fractions through time. I truly wish I wasn’t here right now writing about my misery. I wish my life had some remote sense of comfort, colour, happiness & normalcy that I’d be able to truthfully share with the world without having to fall back into the subject of my battles with myself.In the midst of all that whirlwind, I have had moments whereby I have felt like I’ve had some kind of slow revelation. This being the days where I’ve felt okay, I’ve felt calm and collected in some form. But that’s just it, for a moment.. It kinda never last long enough for me to revel in that moment of peace because I’m quick to fall back into the state of panic of whether it’s just a matter of time before I loose myself again. I can’t seem to even cut myself a bit of slack. That’s the cue for my frustrations. The back and forth of my thoughts that are trying to convince themselves that they can get out of that depressive state still in the midst of the voice at the back of my mind that reminds me that I’m on the train to loony ville.This year round, every bit of feeling has felt more intense & deliberately prolonged than before. Each struggle felt aggravated & escalated more than ever before which in turn felt like I was unlocking an entirely whole new level of depression that I clearly had never experienced before. This level of pain reared its ugly head and didn’t mince it’s presence ; it was there and it wasn’t going anywhere . (Trigger Warning). In previous blog updates I have mentioned of my struggle with self harm and how much I latch onto it as a pain relief from my mental & emotional turmoil. That too escalated quick & fast and I was loosing grip of everything and relying on it nearly as often as countless times a day. It got so bad, I began to worry that I was running out of space to cut since I’d ripped up most of my wrist. I was in so much emotional pain I didn’t know what else to do… but a conscious part of me knew that if I didn’t seek some form of help, I was going to do irreversible damage that I’d have no way to get out of. I soon had to start on therapy which went on for a while. I got my first set of antidepressants and they were hard. It was a real adjustment for me in all aspects, physically, emotionally & mentally. I was going through it, that’s the only way I can express how grand the change was for me. It took time for me to feel like any positive change was happening and through it I got to feel something that had never been a sitting thought in my head but now seemed to swirl quite a few times through my mind. What most people don’t realize is that in not all cases does self harm mean that one’s end game is them taking their own lives. I for one never did it to die. In its own twisted way, it stuck as a reminder that I was still alive, that I wasn’t entirely consumed by my demons.Feeling suicidal for me was a shame I couldn’t bring myself to admit to anyone; that it was actually a thought in my mind. I for one didn’t want to raise any alarm over it cause I believed I was still strong enough to at least never actualize it. I kept repeating it to myself that I am too much of a coward to take my own life and that I’d never want to be the cause of such pain to my loved ones . What I didn’t realize is that, it was alarm enough to just think about what suicide would be like for me. Whether it would finally be peaceful & quiet. I began to feel unfazed by my self harm and it became more than just my norm, it became an addiction. This has to be the first time I’m admitting that to anyone apart from myself. It quit being a coping mechanism for me and it became a latch for whenever my mood would fluctuate, whenever I’d think about it, I’d want to simply actualize it just cause I could & just cause it made me feel better in its own way. I knew I should have been scared to be this unfazed and unbothered by it but a part of me still isn’t, till date. This went as far as consciously triggering myself sometimes so I’d convince my mind that I wasn’t in a calm state and that gave me reason enough to actualize the thought of cutting myself. This is hard to admit to myself and to anyone who’ll read this. Currently, that’s my greatest battle right now, self harming over every little shift that takes place in my mind. It makes me feel sadistic, crazy ,demented and mentally damaged. I’m not proud of it.So that’s the much of a rundown of my time, of what my life has been for the last couple months. I truly didn’t intend to write, at least until I was sure I wouldn’t be writing about how messed up my life is. I actually wanted to express something less depressive, something less exhausting, something less sad… but I guess, that’ll have to wait for a while till I can get the right treatment for my mental struggles. I often wish that I could get an actual diagnosis over what it is exactly that’s the root cause for the shifts and mental instability that seems to happen a lot to me. It’s my next hope that I can finally get a treatment for what specifically is ailing my mind. I’m hanging in there. I’m grateful for those who look out for me. I genuinely wouldn’t be here without some of the people in my life… and I hope that after all this is done and I’m able to finally get a sense of mental structure and stability, I’ll be able to be that sense of support to someone else who’ll need it at that time.

I truly applaud anyone who can maintain even just a fraction of themselves when battling depression. Just watched this video of a lady on her YouTube channel talking about how it’s been tough on her recently and she’s been feeling like she’s uncertain of who she is anymore. I gotta give it to her though, she looks so put together & preppy, at least from my frontal view of her… But even on a general note, it’s mad impressive how anyone who’s self aware of their depression could have the ability to maintain themselves with acts as simple as having their hair done or having make up on & dressing up. As for other cases, like myself, I can hardly gather myself enough to take a shower on most days, let alone worry about my hair. I’ve not looked ‘picture perfect’ for myself or anyone else for about four months now. I’m what you’d call a slob and honestly, I’ve got no motivation to change that. I think it’s enough that I get to have to live through each day only to have it repeat itself on the very next day. That’s all the motivation I got, at least for now it’s all the motivation I need.I’d take breaking down & crumbling over whatever it is I’m feeling right now. Maybe finally breaking would force out my recovery process . I’d take breaking down over this void feeling inside me. I can feel every little inch of me die a little each day. The unsettling feeling in my gut that just won’t let me live enough to have the will to fight. I’m not entirely sure what I’m fighting for anymore. That’s just the battle, fighting against myself over a person I’m no longer sure I recognize anymore.But maybe there’s hope.. Even though I may not fully see it now, I’ll fight to feel it. I’ve been off therapy for a month now cause I traveled home. I know I need to get back on the therapy wagon therefore I called my therapist earlier today and she gave me the small glimmer of hope I’m feeling right now. I suppose her reassurance that she’s still with me through this was well needed and I’m grateful for it. I’ve not felt reassured over anything for a while now therefore I relish the new found feeling. I wish I had the right words to explain to anyone how hard it is to see hope when all there is around you is darkness. I envy those who’ve gone through depression & mental struggles and have stood up to say they beat it. I can only assume it took effort to get to such a position. I compromise myself a lot when it comes to having any kind of hope over anything in my life. Truth be told, I beat myself down more than any depression does.I’m a compilation of zero to no self esteem which when I think about, has been me for all my life. I don’t know what it’d be like to stare at myself in the mirror & truly appreciate the reflection staring back at me. I have always subconsciously been aware that my effort to stand out to anyone or even to myself has been on a bare minimum. I’ve always been okay being at the back & hidden from the world cause it’s always felt safer for me. I’ve always been behind this wall where letting anyone in has always been close to impossible. It’s not until recently that I got to learn that I shouldn’t be comfortable being in the back hiding. My therapist brought it to my attention that there could be a lot more of myself that I haven’t given the chance to exist. A lot more that could mean better & greater than all I have ever been and known. Maybe despite everything, I still have a shot at more than just being alive.

I’ll try keep this as short as I can cause honestly, I don’t know where I’m going with this…I just know that I’m in the middle of chaos that I need to find a way or a means out of. When I feel like I’ve probably felt enough in conjunction to how low my mental struggles can take me, I’m reminded that I’m falling into a bottomless pit. Honestly, I’m at a war and I can’t ascertain to whether I’m winning or losing. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, it always feels like I’m drowning but the difference this time round is that something keeps pushing me further down into the water ; I’m suffocating on the chaos that’s raging in me. I’m battling as it is to simply put to words how much turmoil I’m feeling but I feel like the harder I try to emerge out of it, the harder it is getting for me to breathe…like I’m having a panic attack but nobody else can see it cause it’s behind my eyes. Even as I write this, my breathing is laboured & I honestly just wish I could scream out the turmoil. The scariest thing out of all of this, I don’t know why I’m drowning…Tonight I’d have stopped the chaos, even if it’s just for a little while. I wanted to, I had every intention to. Sadly, in the only way I know how. Depression for me is taking an entirely new height..one I’m not sure I’ve been to before. One that’s paralyzing and crippling; I don’t know how to calm the hell that is coursing through me. I feel psychotic cause the world around seems entirely oblivious to the war that’s waging in my mind. I’m a breathing shell of the person I’m meant to be. I wanted to hurt myself, it was the plan a few minutes ago but somewhere along the line, I’m convinced it truly won’t make a difference. I no longer seek pity or remorse over the fact that I cope the way I do. Self harm keeps me more alive than I can attest to. It may be just another slash to my wrist or another scar to the collection but it’s sadly how chaos has me surviving. I don’t want to die but my spirit might not be strong enough to pull through this battle. It’s petrifying to think that there just might not be a way out of this. If I could choose death tonight, it would be outta of the utter helplessness that is coursing through me at this very moment. The feeling of having no hope whatsoever is like a blanket wrapped tightly around me to the point of slowly suffocating every bit of air inside me. I want to pick myself up from this shackles tied around my mind, I just truly don’t know if I’m strong enough to break free. Where would I even start? My spirit feels a lot like its been trampled over, fully decimated. I’ve got no hope & will left in me. The light in me is slowly dwindling. Your probably wondering why can’t I ask for help. It’s hard to see hope from others when it’s pretty non existent in yourself. Not to sound ungrateful but I don’t believe there’s much anyone could do for me anymore. At least not until I find strong enough will to help me back up & help myself fight for my better state of mind.

Suicide.. Does that draw your attention? I sure hope it has cause it sure has drawn mine.. Maybe not in the same exact sense for you as it has for me but our attention is drawn… Thinking about it brings along a very chilling feeling that’s eerie. Not the most talked about subject and its understandable why. It’s not gonna randomly pop up in a conversation. The world has chosen to turn a blind eye over this subject cause a lot of it is denial over the fact that it happens everyday & everywhere. In all honesty, nobody ever sees it coming, maybe apart from those who lives have felt that it was their only way out… that it was their end of the tunnel. We are all quick to believe that the light at the end of the said tunnel always has to be hope ;for some, it’s the light that shines in death.

I’m not here to justify suicide or why it happens. I don’t believe there’s a universal reason of sort that explains why people do it. Truthfully, I’m not sure what I wanna say concerning it…. I’d be lying if I said it’s not been a notion that’s crossed my mind of late. It’s hard to admit that… It’s sure as hell tough as nails to put it out there that such a heartbreaking thought has skimmed through my mind. This being said, I don’t believe I’m suicidal. I’ve fought so hard to never get there & I wanna keep finding reasons to never getting there… But despite the internal war waging inside my mind, it’s hard to not wonder whether maybe that’s the only way out. I can’t say I know what goes through the minds of any of the people who have lost their lives through suicide..the most I could guess is that they probably felt hopeless. The kind that doesn’t give you a way out… the kind that most likely ran them out of options to get rid of the heaviness that burdened them. I say this cause I’ve felt that. That hopeless ache that sometimes never seems to leave & drains you of the little energy you have to fight for life & to fight to keep your will to survive. I’ve felt it and it’s scary.

Just to make things clear, this isn’t my suicide note. At least I don’t think it is. I still wanna live, even despite the exhaustion I’m feeling from merely having to breathe. I’ve always thought of myself as too cowardly to do something as drastic & final as suicide. Ever since I was a child, I just knew I couldn’t bring myself to take my own life. The thought wasn’t farfetched for me, I just knew I didn’t have the balls in me to do it. I believe I still don’t have enough balls for it but now, now I don’t think it’s such a bleak thought. Earlier today, while taking breakfast, my family and I were listening to the radio & a story came up of a seven year old boy who committed suicide. It said that he had just come out from playing with his friends & seemed completely fine to his parents, and in a matter of minutes, they walked back in the house to find his lifeless body hanging of a rope on the ceiling. It was disheartening to listen to that, having to hear that that early in the morning when one is about to start their day. It was extremely sad & painful to think about it but out of all of that, what mainly stayed with me is how young he was. In the world that we live in, a seven year old is extremely young therefore it raises the question of what kind of chaos was that little boy going through to have concluded that his life wasn’t worth living for anymore…

I no longer find surprise when it comes to the subject of suicide. I believe we have been tuned as humans to never reveal our weaknesses to the world for they may see us as weak which in actual fact we are. I wish the world could share kindness to everyone & not just when one is in the blink of taking their own life but even when one is in the peak of their life. I hope that my demons remain cowardly enough to not bring me to the blink of me taking my own life. Even despite the painful, hollowing sorrow I’m going through, I hope to live through my dreams & aspirations till when it is my time to leave this earth. Suicide is not a matter of courage or balls, it’s a matter of hopelessness & despair… It’s everyone’s wish to never get to that point in their lives but never think ill of those who have. The toughest kind of pain is the kind that is masked behind a happy face or a prosperous life. People think that those who contemplate suicide are selfish for not taking into consideration the feelings of those they live behind. Take a minute to think of how much sorrow it brings for one to choose their own pain over the one that their loved ones are left to feel. It isn’t easy. I sure don’t think it is. I don’t advocate for suicide, not at all. I wish we could all see the beauty in life but we all know that’s not possible. If you ever feel like life isn’t worth living anymore, reach out to just one person who would rather listen to your pain than have to sit by your grave.

I always thought that the reason I felt the most motivated to write is when I was down..well, I’m here to correct that because I can say with enough conviction that I’ve never been lower in my life than I am now. I thought that the depression I felt before was severe , I was wrong. It’s been fifteen days since I started taking antidepressants and let me say, I’ve been on a rollercoaster that’s borderlined insanity for me. I have never felt more alone, hollow & hopeless like I have this past two weeks. I was forced to stare at the ugliness of what depression can really put one through and let me say, it’s nothing less than hideous. It’s showed me how dreadful it is & sunk me deeper into it in a way I have never felt. I am guessing y’all are wondering why I’m saying this when antidepressants are meant to make things easier.. I thought the same too until they were finally in my system and it’s been chaos ever since .Nobody coached me on what it would mean to be under antidepressants. For starters, I’m so sad right now & about every other minute I am alone with my mind. This is the kind of sadness that’s brought me to the brim of looking at a life without myself in existence. It has made me contemplate how irrelevant my existence is and how much right now I feel more of a burden than a relevant human being. I’ve isolated myself from everyone cause I am just not sure anybody is ready to see how damaged I am or how broken I’ve gotten . I’m a shell of the already messed up person I was before. The constant darkness surrounding my mind, my thoughts & feelings is enough to darken a galaxy. I knew well enough that I’d feel numb when taking antidepressants but it’s not the nice kind ,this one suffocates you and wrings the ever living life outta you.Nobody mentioned the crazy mood swings that I’ve gotten to feel first hand…The bouts of anger that sprout out of nowhere and cripple me from having any interaction with anyone in the fear I’ll blow up on them. There are moments when I am not sure whether I’m feeling at all. It’s forcing me to push people away so that I’ll not have to tangle them along in my misery. All to the moments when all I can think about is the rippling feeling of a blade on my skin that’s akin to a breathe of fresh air in my lungs. Honestly I don’t think there’s much good that’s come from taking this meds, or better yet, I’m just too broken to be fixed...and finally, the weight gain. I was scared of that when I first heard I’d be going under antidepressants and I can confirm that my fears about it were valid. I’m too scared to know how much weight I’ve gained over those two weeks cause despite the constant darkness surrounding my mind, I can’t seem to shake off the constant hunger this medicine has brought about. I’m nearly constantly hungry half the time I’m awake which is a symptom of the precise medicine I’m taking. I thought I could have a hold on it and eat moderately but it’s hard, I swear it’s hard. If I could rip this urge out, I would but again, I don’t know where to start. I’m just so tired. I’m exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally. I’m drained from the mere struggle it is to have the will to live & simply survive. I am not writing this for pity, I very well don’t need it. I just wish I could have someone who understands exactly what it’s like for me right now, someone who isn’t just seeing this but is looking at this and listening to what it is I’m relaying. I just need one person to tell me it’s not over for me yet…

Weeks later, I am where I thought I wanted to be. I thought that if I got here I’d be better. I walked into it blindly but with hope that some light would be shed into the darkness that’s been my home for so long. So here I am… So what next…?

It’s been hard finding this niche that drives me to write. It’s hard enough that I can’t force it even when I am in desperate need to let out the turmoil that currently goes on in my head. I no longer keep track of how long it’s been since I wrote, I just know its been long enough. I’m in limbo right now. My state of mind is unknown. I guess it’s part of the new feeling that comes with taking antidepressants. Can you believe it? We are at antidepressants now… I have to latch on meds for help in dealing with whatever goes wrong with me. I still feel like I don’t know exactly what that is but maybe progressively I will find out what plagues me.

So here I am, five days in since I started on my ‘happy pills’…Truth be told, I don’t feel so happy or nice to say the least. I know I’m not supposed to judge them so soon but it’s inevitable not to. I feel like shit right now. I’ve been doing my research on the precise medicine I was given and guess what, I’m not sure if they are meant to help me, or get me quicker to being suicidal. I have never been suicidal before & I know that might not seem to be the case due to my self harming ways but they don’t mean that I want to end my life. At least for me they don’t. They just mean I survive painfully enough to want to live. I don’t expect everyone or anyone for that matter to understand that. Recently actually, I have come to experience stigmatization in a form I never anticipated. It took me off guard since it was from a family member who I don’t blame for their lack of understanding on my struggles. I guess I just never fully anticipated ever being stigmatized over something I have absolutely no control over.

As I’ve mentioned before, I feel like shit. Day one on my meds, I was high as a fucking kite. I got so drowsy, lost every sense of coordination & balance .I was knocked out in a couple minutes. My body was adjusting to the foreign entity in its system. With the exact type of medicine I am taking, it’s meant to take care of the depression & insomnia. I don’t necessarily consider myself an insomniac, I just have a terrible sleep pattern that is inconsistent. Day two, I opted to skip on one of my pills. I’m meant to take two in a day, morning & nighttime..but on the occasion that it’s too strong for me to handle in the day, I can take one pill before bed everyday. Now to day five, I am sure I am depressed which I’m not surprised since its a side effect of the medication. I know, I’m confused too. The medicine is meant to help me cope with the said depression, not add on to it. I wish I could understand remotely what is going on but I don’t . All I know is that, I’m five days in with this antidepressants & I feel a tad bit worse than I was before. So yeah, I’m not gonna throw in the towel & quit taking it, no, I’ll wait it out and see how things go. Maybe it gets worse before it gets better.

I feel extremely hyper aware of my problems right now.. Not just mentally but even those that are happening beyond my mind. It’s devastating feeling this helpless and not knowing where to start. Nobody ever tells you how lonely depression makes you feel, it won’t let you bring anyone down with you because it’s quick to remind you that its your problem, no one else’s. Its crippling & isolating enough to have you convinced that nobody can nor will understand what you are going through. I have never felt more alone in this world than I do now. The stigma, the shame and everything else attached to depression is the weight on my shoulders that I’ve gotta carry. So you know what, I’d never wish this on anyone. Nobody deserves to have their mind as their biggest fear.

Dear Depression ,I can’t begin to imagine how many times you’ve received letters from others who’ve been acquainted with you. I wish I’d say it didn’t bug me that others have felt you in some form or way but it surely does. I am never ready or excited to share or hear of other people’s encounters with you, it unnerves me for some reason. I’m yet to figure out exactly why. I wish I was somewhat prepared with bullet points on what i’d wanna say to you but i honestly don’t have a plan on how to do this. You do that to me… render me speechless & drain me of any strength that I’d have put into making some sort of effort, at anything technically. But I’m not mad at you, on the contrary, you’ve been the longest underrated relationship I’ve been in for the better part of my life. You maintained consistence even without always being at the fore front of my mind. I felt you way long before I understood what you were or what you represented. Then, you preyed on my naivety on the lack of articulation & appropriate description of what you did to me ; on what you made me feel. I always just thought I was an akward, sad and lonely kid while all along, you planted your seeds in me and watered them over the years until you were strong enough to sprout out of the ground that was /is my mind.I don’t honestly need an answer for why you chose me, or why you altered my personality to match the aesthetics of your nature. It wouldn’t make sense to seek such an answer since I wouldn’t know who I’d be weren’t it for your meddling…and anyway, you have never been one to explain yourself ,you thrive on the uncertainties you give. What a lot of people don’t understand is that you are limitless, it should be explainable since you are a guest to many. I can’t elaborate on your whereabouts while dealing with other people, no, you have made certain that you are the center of my attention & are rooted as a part of me whereby seeing & living beyond you is downright impossible.When I said you’ve stuck around for a while it’s because you have been there for as long as I can recall. You were there when I couldn’t explain why I felt this immense sadness inside me to my mother. You watched in the shadows as I struggled to bring to sense to her that I was feeling everything different from every other child around me. That I was scared, anxious & the least carefree. You’d just started to wrap your arms around me for it was just a matter of time before you’d fully have to engulf me. Before long ,you made yourself known to me, you came to me in the face of grief, anguish & an Inerasable sadness that became the beginning of your true manifestation in my mind. You carried me in your arms & sunk me under. You sunk deeper in me and built a wall behind my thoughts & feelings where it was only ever gonna be you and I. Eight years down, you and I have created a history so deeply inbedded, it’s turned to a maze.…you are no longer just an overhwelming sadness that pops up when I can’t handle the gravity and the intensity of my emotions. You are the face of the grief I feel when I miss my mum. You are the face of the sorrow I feel when I get paralysed in my mind as a fourteen year old girl who’s every dream with her mum got shattered after I learned that I’d have to live without her for the rest of my life. Depression,you are the face of the constant fear & anxiety that engulfs me over not being good enough for anyone, even for myself. The face of the abandonment issues that plague me everytime I make a friend or have a lover. You are the face of the shame I carry every time I have to bandage up my cuts so I don’t have to feel them, let alone see them. You depression are the face of the self destructing habits I’ve picked up on everytime I can’t deal with the betrayal from my mind…As of now, I can’t tell if you are my fiend or my friend. Sometimes you are all it takes to remind me that I am human & that as much as I try to escape pain, I’m rendered in it. So for now, you are my face, you are my demons & for all I know, you might be me for the rest of my life.

Allow me not to be ‘remotely perfect‘ right now. To not be articulate with my words for I’m certain I don’t have the right words to express exactly what I’m going through. I’ve racked my mind and sort through it of ways to express what I am constantly feeling but I’ve come short of words. Ironic really cause words are always all I ever have.I can’t afford the standards I usually often put for myself whenever I write. I can’t promise I’ll complete this post or that it’ll make any sense or that it’ll mean anything at all. I’m just taking a shot at hoping that whatever I pour out will slightly ease the emptiness & hollow feeling that’s becoming of me. I wish I was numb. I truly do. I wish I wasn’t feeling or itching or urging for the things that are enveloping me right now. I feel wrong, I feel torn & more now detached from reality than ever before… cause this, this shouldn’t be my reality.I’ve read it over and over again but it gives me no comfort to read ‘it’s okay to not be okay’. I don’t want to not be okay. I don’t want to find comfort from accepting that I feel destroyed. I don’t want to feel any comfort anymore in my pain. No words known to me can measure up to what I feel. None can describe how paralyzed I feel & how immobilized my state of mind is.I’ve thought that maybe if I could rip off my hand, I’d have nothing left to hurt. That if I could finally chop it off, it’ll kill the urge to constantly look at my self inflicted scars. Or that maybe if I wrap them up, I’ll no longer have to feel the ridges everytime I graze my palm on my wrist. I’m trying, I’m battling but I can’t promise I’m winning.So to conclude whatever this post is, I’m breathing through surviving. I’m a shell of myself & a lot of the questions I have tried asking myself as to how to get out of this, I have no answers to. I hope it’s no burden to anyone who reads this. It’s heavy, like every other feeling in my life and I would hate to burden anyone else with my being. So I apologize. I apologize that I’m a 🐚 of who I hope to be.

I don’t struggle everyday or every waking moment of my life. I’m not always writhing in mental agony ; I’m not always sad & depressed. This facts should be a good thing, it should be something I’m proud of…so then why am I not? Why does it scare me instead that I have moments where I’m who I should be, a normal girl? It’s profound in my mind that I should be alarmed over the fact that I’m not constantly broken. Do I know why? I wish I could say I don’t have an idea but I do. I wish it wasn’t because of the fact that my fucked up mind can’t seem to even be good enough to be constant at being ill. I’m the definition of a fuck up…at least my mind is.

I just read through a post on instagram of a girl I recall following cause she and I had something in common. Cut marks. Just saying it gives me shivers . I hate seeing them and I get angry when I do. On anyone. They are not pretty & they are shameful…but despite all that, I can’t seem to not seek solace through it. To be honest, I no longer know why I do it. Some part me is sure I’m narcissistic towards myself. I’d rather be in the shadows of my pain than allow myself to think I can get better ; that I can do better… The girl in the post looks like she’s doing better, a whole lot better than I am. I hate that she can expose her marks which are a whole lot more than my tinnie tiny scars …i can’t even seem to make a substantial insition on myself. I can’t say exactly why it upsets me but it does. Maybe I’m just not ready to go into the dark part of my mind that has an answer to that.

Right in this very moment, I feel tormented. I feel wrecked… In this moment, I could care less if the dishes were pilled up in the sink. The ‘ocd’ I feel is what keeps me a float. I relish on the little control it gives me . Whether it’s in making sure there aren’t dishes in the sink or that the house is spotless or that everything is in its rightful place. I could care less right now about all that. All I feel is this hollow sinking feeling inside that’s itching in my mind.

I was fine approximately sixteen minutes ago. I was a float on my little boat of normalcy but I’m now not and it’s all cause I saw that post. The girl from the instagram post looks like she’s at a consensus with herself…or maybe not. Maybe her struggle allows her to have a smile on her face while showing her scars. It seems impossible ,at least from my eyes it does. Guess that’s what it feels like to feel the shift of a trigger .

PS. I don’t feel like I fully have expressed myself. I feel like I could erase this post and every little feel in me. This caption feels better of an explanation of what I am trying to relay to you. Whoever you are.