Let the skies open up for me Drown me in the light, lift me up, falling and flying slowly Let the ever-swelling overwhelming world crash over me like an ocean wave A wave breaking into thin waters of a puddle
Let me fly through time, forward and up Drop me into a place outside this glass box Where the skies open upwards instead of falling inwards Lift up the fading colors into bright translucent confetti
I see myself blending into a crowd, not stranded in a vacuum anymore Not waking up from a nap, lost and clueless, but my mind decked with clear sight Just enough to want to wake up once more.
One of the worst parts about my depressive episode was that after a point, I stopped wanting to get better. I tried to be unrealistically optimistic about my future. I let myself dream of the best possible things that could be waiting for me on the other side, but I stopped wanting it bad enough to fight any longer. And I was too tired.
The strongest support system I developed in the past few months that eventually pushed my recovery further was myself. Not because I couldn’t rely on anyone else, but because there’s only so much that others can do or say. In depression, even with the most amazing, people, support, and the best circumstances, I’d feel incredibly alone. In those moments, sitting on my bed wrapped up in a blanket, staring at the wall, too tired to even brush my teeth, I would feel disconnected from everyone and everything – my family, best friends, my room. I didn’t even have my memories, my past, my personality to hold on to. It was all a blur. It was literally just me stranded in that moment with my dark thoughts.
Everything doesn’t work for everyone, and at that point, I needed to find absolutely any scrap of a thought that had the slightest chance of helping. I tried, with one leg out the door – I didn’t want to, but sometimes I ended up trying anyway for some reason. And once I started, that part of me took the lead, and I didn’t notice until a few weeks or months how unbelievably that helped. It doesn’t matter what helped. I tried everything until something did. And then I kept doing it.
Hope.
I started telling myself all sorts of stories, convincing myself that no matter how destroyed I was, that there will be a day when my life will be everything I want it to be – much like daydreaming. I did that, even though it was far fetched because, at least at the moment, it gave me hope, or just made me smile for a second. I wanted to believe, so I let myself believe.
Eventually, instead of having to wait until the depression lifted, I could start managing to live each day with it. The waiting was no longer waiting, it was living. Still hard, of course, but so much better. So much easier. My treatment started working, picked up speed.
I guess I should thank that part of me for being almost the only reason I was ready to keep going another day. Because I’m great now. I feel good. The worst really is over this time at least. Bad days still come occasionally, but I feel more in control of them – I feel less alone, less scared – it’s less exhausting. I actually want to wake up when I go to sleep most days. That’s huge. And it feels amazing.
Letting go of what doesn’t make sense anymore.
During my first depressive episode, I wasn’t good company. My mind was a mess, my dark thoughts were me, my broken pieces, miserable emotions, hopes, dreams, my identity was all mixed up in one unrecognizable mush. This second time it was a little better. By the end at least, it was me – my good parts, dreams, opinions, my identity – against the depression. Everything before this episode began seemed distant. I had lost myself right at the beginning. I was trying to hold on to what was left of me. Things would probably never go back to the way it was before. And that seemed like a huge loss. I cracked, something was taken away from me.
I’m still a work in progress, so my life seems like scraps of paper, spilled glitter and a bottle of glue. But that’s exactly what my life until now was all about. This window. I had definitely left myself behind, I was an empty shell. So what else could I do but get to know myself all over again? I let go of my image of who I thought I was, and even better, I created a new one. One that I liked. One that makes more sense now. Who was I that day? What did I like, what was important to me? Let go. Start fresh.
How to have your own back.
Separate yourself from the depression. It’s an entity outside of yourself. Stop hating it, being angry at it. Be comfortable in its company. Accept the situation and trust it’s for the best. It’s okay that you are in this place right now, or have been for so long.
Take care of yourself like you’re someone you love unconditionally – a family member, a friend, your pet. If they were suffering, wouldn’t you do absolutely anything to help? It wouldn’t matter what the problem was, what history you have, or even if you wanted to help. You just help anyway. You don’t have a choice. It’s freeing to think this way, it feels lighter, easier. That’s all you need to think about right now – unconditional support, having your back. Taking care of yourself. That’s it.
Be kind to yourself. You don’t deserve to hurt. You want to be happy. You want to live a beautiful life, so you will. You deserve that. Just trust that it will be worth the wait and the fight. And it’s going to be beautiful and spectacular even if the least of your wishes come true.
Are you too tired? Don’t want to think about the future? Start small. Start with today. The next few hours. Or minutes. That’s all you need to focus on right now. The only way out is through. It’s the next hour, it’s going to bed tonight, waking up tomorrow, taking a shower, getting coffee, making it to your appointment. Be overoptimistic. Take care of your basic needs – eat, shower, take out the trash – treat yourself – go shopping, get a Starbucks coffee. Watch Netflix to distract yourself. Call for help. Or do nothing at all.
But take care of yourself. Even when you don’t want to. You deserve it.
Asking a depressed you to like yourself seems ridiculous. But it’s the depressed you that needs it the most. I promise, from my experience, that it is possible to feel whole, okay, be some version of happy, even when you’re broken and in pieces inside. Once you start doing that, and the wheels are in motion, things get a little easier, smoother, it comes naturally. It really does get better. Maybe not when you want it to happen the most, but it will happen when you need it the most.
Living with depression is incredibly difficult, but it can be easier. Even if you can’t make a huge difference, I promise that you can make this a little easier at the least. Find what works for you. And keep trying.
It’s hard to tell if a person is depressed unless they break down in front of you or manage to tell you themselves. Depression doesn’t leave scars, not always. And it’s hard to say how bad it is if you can’t see the wound.
If you might know someone who’s going through a difficult time, if you have even the slightest doubt, reach out.
Even if you think it wouldn’t help, do it. Even if you think bringing it up could make it worse, or that it wouldn’t make a difference at all, even if it makes you uncomfortable, do it.
They don’t need much from you.
First, understand that their state of mind, the place they’re in, is on a different dimension. Depression is not just an extreme version of the sadness that you know, it’s sadness on a whole other dimension, one that is comparable and yet is entirely different, so different you can’t even begin to imagine it.
So let me tell you what you can’t see. You can’t see they’re numb inside when they laugh at your jokes, that they haven’t eaten in three days, that they wish they don’t wake up when they go to bed every night.
It is important that you do see it, that you at least show that you want to. Because that person needs you. They need someone, anyone, to tell them it’ll get better. They might get through it alone, they’re strong, no doubt. They’ll talk themselves out of jumping off a bridge, cry themselves to sleep, drag themselves to get help, and convince themselves to keep going another day. And they just might. But maybe they won’t. The illness bends their mind, tells them to stop fighting, and convinces them there’s nothing left to fight for.
In those times, they will need you to say that it’s all a lie. That they deserve to see the other side of the darkness, and that you will sit by them till they no longer need to fight. That the little hope they have is real. That their dark thoughts are nothing more than chemical imbalances – it’s not them, just a temporary tarp covering their light, that a beautiful life is waiting for them at the other end, waiting for them to get through some more time. That it’ll be worth it. Say it over and over again. Till they believe it. And then say it again.
If you don’t know what to do, ask them. Even a “You okay?” means a lot. It can make them take a break from crying into a pillow to watch Netflix for a bit. It can slow down an escalating bad day, make them feel just a little less lost, enough to get through the rest of the day. Ask them if they ate anything all day. You don’t need to come up with some speech. You don’t need to say anything at all – sit next to them. Hold their hand while they try not to break down.
And for those who are going through any version of a difficult time right now, or ever have, know that you deserve such support, and you might already have it. You might even have the best possible people in your life and still not have quite the support you need. That’s perfectly normal. It’s not that you don’t deserve it, or they don’t care enough, they just don’t really know what you need. It’s sad and unfair, I know. But that’s okay. Take all the help you can get. Or ask for it. I swear they’ll want to.
You’re capable of getting through this. But you don’t have to do it alone.
furrypurplething 