This One is Heavy

I've only written briefly about this once before, and seeing as there are very few people who read this site regularly, it feels somewhat safer to be writing about mental illness, depression, specifically.

For as long as I can remember, it has been a part of my life, and while on the surface I think it's great it's being discussed more openly by people in all walks of life, it also makes me very uncomfortable and fidgety to hear it being discussed so candidly. A contradiction, yes, but I can't help squirming with the beginnings of an anxiety attack as yet another segment appears on tv celebrating this "cause du jour". For the most part, my experience has always been a private suffering so that to see it 'out there' leaves me feeling dreadfully exposed and vulnerable.

And yet, here I am, writing about my own very personal experience...

It's a beautiful September day - blue sky, cool, crisp weather - exactly my favourite time of year. This morning, I could sense the tentacles of darkness reaching for me, trying to grab hold and sink in. And with every fiber of my being, I am desperately trying to not let that happen, all the while knowing I'm standing right at the edge of tumbling over, ever ready to retreat inside myself for days and weeks on end. It is this trepidation, this knowingness of what's just ahead that tires me out most easily. In short order, though, there is a certain relief because when the monster arrives, it's just there. No more wondering when or how. It just is.

I have been medicated periodically for over 15 years, and have yet to find the magical combination that works for me. Most of the drugs I've tried have left me zombie-like, numb and foggy. I hate that feeling even more than the melancholy and hopelessness that swirls constantly amid the crippling self doubt; the hours spent inside my own head as the devil on my shoulder whispers a constant barrage of horrible, nasty, self-defeating expressions; the certainty that I will never measure up - all of this combined leaves me feeling like a ghost. One little gust of wind and I will quite literally just drift away in tiny particles of dust. There are moments when I stamp my foot against the ground to check that YES, I AM STILL HERE.

I guess by writing about this I'm trying to feel less shame about this disease.

It's a work-in-progress though, because I am quite discomfited by the idea of clicking on "Publish post"...