Two Sides of a Coin

Happiness is a slippery slope when you battle depression. There’s an ebb and flow that is sickening, you’re trapped in a labyrinth of confusing turns. A few right turns and you think you’re home free, then you take a left turn and realize you’re still stuck inside that same labyrinth.

Depression is a slippery slope when you’re happy. It comes out of nowhere and then swallows you whole. It starts with something small like fatigue. You don’t feel like waking up before noon— so you don’t. Then you don’t feel like going to that appointment— so you don’t. Things begin to pile up and before you can muster the energy to tackle it the pile is too big and overwhelming to touch— so you don’t. The pile just festers in the corner of your mind while you try to sleep it away. But then during your sleep depression finds you still, bringing you nightmares that pull at your heartstrings. Eventually these nightmares leak into your everyday thoughts, now despite your happiness you come to see... depression has returned.

It’s a confusing concept, depression and happiness coenciding. But it’s real. Depression doesn’t always have to have rhyme or reason, it doesn’t have to be plausible or obvious. Even stranger, depression doesn’t mean a void of happiness. They always say light will drown out the dark, so why can’t that apply to my depression? Why can’t the two emotions be detangled from one another?

Without my unwanted depression I wouldn’t be able to feel the true weight of my happiness. I wouldn’t be able to feel that this is what a happy heart feels like. Against my will  my happy heart reminds itself of a time it was in much pain. Unfortunately, I still feel that pain, in those moments I relive that pain and take it in. The pain can still consume me and this is what pisses me off. Why can such a happy heart be consumed with so much pain? Light should be able to drown out the dark. But life is not so simple. We must face the things in the dark before we can reach the light switch, and just because we turned on the light doesn’t mean the monsters don’t still lurk under the bed.

I am happy and I am sad. I am full of life and defeated. It hurts because I’m so happy and it hurts because I still have scars. I do not wish for my depression to define me, and I’m still working on that, but I will not pretend it doesn’t exist despite the happy heart. This is me, for now, depressed and happy, making my way through it one day at a time.

An Open Letter to the Boy Who Came and Left

I am not sure I can explain it to you, and I am not sure you would even get it if I tried-- but I've had a love for you from the start. At first it was confusing and I didn't understand it. I saw purity, pain, kindness, knowledge, and life in you. But it was confusing. Because you didn't show an interest in me persay, but I saw it in your body language. The first time we hung out and you almost cuddled me absent mindlessly-- catching yourself at the last second. I saw it in the way you fought back smiling when I said or did something. I saw it, but I was confused. I was so used to guys falling for me fast and hard and convincing me to fall for them back, and once I was convinced, they would leave, changed their minds. So I didn't understand why you fought what ever feelings you had for me. But then you opened up.

I had a love for you from the start. Not the "love at first sight" or the "blinded by love" type of love you see in movies. A pure love. I saw you as something beautiful in my life, not as mine, not as my love, but something to love. Simply being around you was calming and energizing all at once. When you began to open up to me and our friendship became a little more than just friends my heart started blossoming. It felt amazing being around you, I felt loved. I never asked you to tell me you loved me, I didn't need that sort of reassurance, I felt it. And that was all that mattered.

Then you started coming around less. The end of the night no longer began "I will never NOT want to go back to your place if you let me" (from you) but "ehhhh I have homework tonight, another time". You started forgetting me, I guess. I am not sure what it was. Am I forgettable? Did you not feel as good being around me now as you used to? Or was it something else?

Life started hitting you in ways it usually hits me. So I tried to be patient. I knew all you wanted to do was shut me out, shut everything out. I got it. But it started reaching a point I didn't know if you would ever let me back in. Not that you ever really let me in very much to begin with, but this was a whole new level of shutting me out. But still, I was patient. Because I knew it could be worth it.

You were confusing. I was not used to being in a new "relationship" were the guy didn't want to be around me 24/7. That's how all of my relationships have been honestly. They come, they're addicted for a week or two, or maybe even a couple months, and then they get burnt out. But with you, there wasn't that addiction, there wasn't that burnt out, it just was. And I decided that was good for me, that was a much more healthy way to go about things. But then you shut me out.

You made me happy in ways I haven't been in a very long time. Healthy ways. I did not feel a need for you constantly, I felt a want often, but you were not the focal point of my life-- and that was refreshing. You were not bad to me. You were not good to me either. You just were a happy and loving person for me go to. So now I am still so confused. You are making me hurt in ways I haven't hurt in a very long time. My heart aches. My heart doesn't feel broken and destroyed like it has from my past few break ups, but it aches. I am not sure this ache is a better feeling. But I have to believe it's a healthier way to feel.

Thank you. Thank you for teaching me to go about things in a more healthy way. You restored in me patience. You restored in me independence. You even are teaching me a healthier way to grieve.

But that does not mean it does not hurt. That does not mean I understand. Why did you choose to leave? Is it something I did? Was I simply not what you wanted? Or were you protecting me? Was your future going to affect us? Did you see a bad side in you coming out that you wanted to keep from me? Or did you come to see I was not worth it like all of those that came before you? Did you just learn earlier than most that I am more work than any person is worth dealing with?

I am hurting, but I'm not all at once, it's so confusing. Why does everything with you have to be so confusing? Sometimes I can't breathe and my blood goes cold when I think of you, other times I smile.

So this is an open letter to the boy who came and left, I have always had a love for you, and I always will. But you have always confused me and unfortunately I fear you always will. You were not bad to me, but you were not good to me either. You gave me a lot, happiness, health, joy, independence, and now pain. I wish you would have not given me the latter.

The Worst Best Friend

You know that one best friend that sticks to you like glue? Not by your own choice, but by their own. They step into your lives and refuse to leave. They are nosey and loud and unfiltered. Constantly making you uncomfortable, you feel rude for being nice to them but truly resenting them inside. They behave as if you are the closest of friends, but never truly provide you any type of support as a friend should. You are constantly carrying their weight around, supporting them and showing them love because despite their flaws you feel they deserve it. Sometimes their presences ebbs and flows, they disappear for weeks or even months. For a brief moment you find yourself missing them in a sense, but in another sense you feel as if you can finally breathe-- you are free of guilt and the weight.

My depression is my worst best friend. It comes and goes. Sometimes I forget it exists, but it's always there hiding-- ready to jump out and attack me at any point. It reveals all of your deepest secrets and vulnerabilities, just like that typical worst best friend. When the depression is present it is suffocating, it pushes and prods until you can no longer resist. It makes you break. Your breaking point means no filtering, an inability to keep your deepest pains to yourself, you can no longer hold in your feelings and thoughts, nor can you see that part of you most recognize as reasoning.

Depression means self doubt, self hate, amplified pains, physical discomfort, and non-stop chanting in your head. There is no breathing, there are no breaks, no stops. During those brief intervals of depression free days that does not truly mean freedom. Without depression one can only brace themselves for the return of the depression, there is constant fear of the return of the depression. Freedom is not without weight or flaws. Once you let in the false sense of security your security blanket is ripped from you just to make you feel twice as stupid as your depression naturally does.

My depression is my worst best friend. Although I have some great best friends, they can only ward off the depression so much. Depression is an internal issue, friends are external remedies that can only scratch the surface of the internal pains one suffers with. The internal remedies modern medicine offers brings more complications than results; otherwise, there really are not internal remedies available.

You know that one best friend that sticks to you like glue? You know how when you were in kindergarten your peers teach you to put elmers glue on your fingers and then once it dries you can peel it off? My depression does not stick to me like elmers glue... my depression is super glue. Not super like Superman or Superstar... but like an impenetrable stickiness. This super glue cannot be washed off... it cannot be peeled off... it will not leave.

My depression is my worst best friend and I am tired of it's presence.

Handle with Care

You came into my life at a time where my heart was damaged.
It had been stomped on.
It had been shredded.
It had been bruised and beaten.
But you told me you could handle it with care.
You told me you could fix it.
That all you wanted was to fix it.
I wasn't naive enough to think you could fix it.
I knew it was damaged.
But I had faith that you could handle it with care
I had faith that you could help it find strength yet again.
I never expected you to fix it.
It is not in another's hands to fix our broken hearts— it is up to time and gentle care.
My heart was damaged.
It had been stomped in.
It had been shredded.
It had been bruised and beaten.
But then you came into my life.
For a time my heart found peace.
But now you say you can't handle the weight.
Now you see it as a burden to fix.
You no longer see a pumping living hurting heart, you see an object.
An object that has weighed you down.
An object that you sometimes stub your toe on when you're walking blindly in the dark and curse at for getting in your pinky toes way.
Now you hurt my heart.
But you can't see it.
Because you came into my life when my heart was damaged.
You saw me at my weakest.
So now with you at your weakest you look to me and say
"Your heart was like this when I got here. I just can't fix others mistakes"
Refusing to acknowledge the pain you have caused me.
Because having a damaged heart is difficult to handle but damaging a heart is impossible to handle.

Shallow is Your Depth

Shallow is your depth.
Small like a puddle you can't even splash in.
But I see such beautiful hints of light in you.
So I sit and I wait.
I wait for the storm to come that will give you depth.
Sometimes I try and do the rain dance even.
Because I see such beautiful hints of light in you.
But the rain dance didn't work when I was five and it won't work when I'm twenty-five.
So I sit and I wait.
Staring. Wishing. Hoping.
That one day something will rush in and give you the depth I want for you.
Maybe it's selfish.
But I see such beautiful hints of light in you.
Maybe that's just not how life has to be.
Maybe we could all be shallow puddles and live just fine.
But you my dear are not a puddle.
You are an ocean in my eyes.
So I sit and I wait.
For the storm to come that shows you that you are more than a puddle.
Because the rain dance didn't work when I was five and it isn't going to work when I am twenty-five.
Waiting in this drought for you to shine for more than just me.
Because I can already see you.
I just cannot bring you the storm you need.
I cannot be a puddle.
I have been stormed on many times over.
But you my dear are the most beautiful puddle I have ever laid eyes on.
So I will sit and I will wait.
Because I see such beautiful hints of light in you and I know one day you will outshine us all.

Losing Control

In a world where we are told continuously that we have control over our lives it is hard to face the truth that this is not the truth. Sure some days we have control over what we wear, eat, see, hear and do, but not all days. We do not have control over what we wear in the sense that we cannot say 'poof I want to wear those $5,000 pair of shoes' and make it happen, on a smaller scale we cannot say 'poof I want to fit into that dress I used to love' and make it so. Yes these things could possibly be obtained over time, but not necessarily-- and again, this is not instantaneous control, it is a process. Same can be said for food, because sometimes we lack: time, money, resources and knowledge, to eat what we desire. All these things seem simple to some, you wear what you want to wear, you eat what you want to eat and do as you wish, you control your life.
Growing up feeling and believing this was empowering, in the beginning, but is now heavy like a curse. For as we grow, the controllers are handed over to us. As we grow, we begin to lose control. Sure, when we reach adulthood we are no longer told we cannot have a candy or force fed greens, but in gaining control we begin to lose it all together. Trying to find a grip on where our lives should be, could be, and will be is one of the most disorientating tasks any one has to face. One day we are simply handed a blank canvas and are expected to create a detailed map within a couple years that lays out the next sixty years. This gain and loss of control is both empowering and weakening. Most figure out how to muddle through it and find at least enough control to make it by.
Control in the grand scheme of things is difficult to have, but the worst part is losing control. To once hold the concept of control firmly with both fists and then lose it in a split second is like being cut in half. The control I am addressing at this time is emotional and physical control. To some these are simple concepts, focus or don't think about it, and train your muscles. Just do it. But some days all that just goes out the windows... yes, windowS. It isn't as simple as chasing that control out one door and getting it back like that. It is running in all directions trying to catch all the pieces before they disappear for good.
For me, the emotional control went first. I could not get my mind to stop wandering to all the dark corners it could find. I could not force my brain to quiet during the late sleepless nights. I could not stop myself from focusing on all the bad surrounding me, nor could I separate the logical from the illogical. I have been trained to see all things as possible; therefore, I see all the potentially dreadful scenarios, and all the potentially wonderful scenarios. As one can imagine, the dreadful scenarios tend to eat me whole, they consume my mind and every thought and there is no fighting them off. And where one might think the wonderful scenarios as something to hold on to, a ray of hope I see disappointment. For I tend to hope for the absolute best and wind up holding the absolute worst. Time after time, I am left with a dreadful scenario. The loss of my emotional control was long and steady, bit by bit I began to lose that control.
Next, and very recently, came the loss of physical control. Accompanying my emotional distress, my physical pain began. A response to the emotional turmoil, I began aching and losing control of many bodily functions. Simple things like breathing and eating went first. In times of high distress eating has been difficult, I have now reached a point that if I can eat it does not stay in my body-- one way or another it finds it's way out of there, and fast. Then came my breathing. Every breath feels like cold sharp blades running down my throat and windpipes straight to my lungs where the air then shreds the inside of my lungs. Alongside this cold cutting pain is a hot burning ache all throughout my chest, in my mind it is the blood from the cuts mentioned prior. Holding my breath means digging the blades in deeper, taking a deep breath means letting more blades in, and exhaling means pushing out more blood out. At one time these were the only physical pains and control issues I faced, but as the intensity increased in my emotional distress so did the pain. Then came the real pain.
I thought losing control over my thoughts and over all calm was bad enough, it was silly because shouldn't I be able to just shut it off like everyone says? Then I lost control over my heart. I gave my heart away, and then when I got it back it was destroyed. Now my heart races uncontrollably, beating the blades into my chest deeper and deeper. My heart beating with such vigor in response to the barbed wire wrapped around it. My heart has been defended for years with a bared wire fence that has now collapsed and wrapped itself tightly around my once strong heart. As my heart beats and fights to get free the wire tightens it's grip and pulls tighter and tighter until the urge to grab inside my chest and pull the whole thing out is unbearable.
This pain spreads to my limbs, consuming both my brain and body movements. Walking hurts, breathing hurts, living hurts. It is a complete and utter loss of control. The most disorientating kind of loss. We cannot control the weather, we cannot control death, we cannot control time... but we grow up believing we should be able to have control over ourselves.

... Come to find, losing control over everything is just one nudge away.

I can't tell you how I will find control again, because frankly, I have no freaking clue. This pain is unbearable and I just wish I had the control make it STOP. But unfortunately, just like those few extra pounds you put on during the holidays, I cannot get rid of it with a snap of my fingers. All I can say is that losing control has been the most painful thing I have had to dealing with. Not being able to trust myself in anything is hard, it is the deepest level of insecurity anyone can reach. I used to know how to control all that was me, now I am not even sure where me went, let alone the controllers...

I did a thing

I did a thing. It was all planned out. Letters were written my mind was set. The pain was all consuming and I couldn't fight it anymore. I didn't care how, I just needed to stop. Sure there were ways I'd prefer for it to end, but if life has taught me one thing it is that we never get it the way we would like it. So I did a thing. I was going to use something sharp. But I became trapped to my room, so instead I was going to use the dulling end of pills. The fear of the pills not working is the only thing that held me back. Nothing could bring me back to reality, all I could feel was pain. And I can't handle this pain anymore. So I tried to do a thing, but I was stopped. I'm not sure I'm done trying, because the pain is not done with me. I'm trying to see a reason to fight... But all I can feel is the pain.