I roll in like a slow-moving fog, smother your motivation and sit on your self-esteem like it’s an old comfortable sofa. There may be no particular outside trigger and it might otherwise be a beautiful sunny day.
But inside your head, it’s gray, damp, and miserable.
Heaviness moves in day after day, and managing and enduring life is more of a challenge. When will it stop? When will it go away?
Oh, but I’m not done.
Like a lightning bolt out of the sky, I can strike and bring on a moment of such intense pain, you feel worthless. Pain so intense you even want to end your life. Anything to get it to stop. But those thoughts? The result of my manipulation.
You struggle to think of your family. They’re so distant in your mind at those most intense moments. And sometimes I can convince you that not even they really care. Wouldn’t it be easier for everyone if you weren’t such a burden?
There I go again toying with your mind and trying to get you to listen to the imposter in your head instead of the reason that lies next to it, which gets smaller with each day I inhabit your space.
But oh my God you fight me. So hard.
Most of the time, you don’t end it but flirt with thoughts of death. Long-term, all that can wear you down.
People think of you as weak for having these feelings. You even think of yourself that way because I’m so damn good at what I do. If they only knew what a herculean effort you put forth to fight me off, how exhausting it is. Quite frankly, I’m impressed.
Even though I upset the chemistry in your brain and wreak havoc on some level daily, you have more control over me than some of you know. And some of you recognize that and decide you can live with me but minimize my effects with a combination of strategies. You get all rah-rah and decide I’m not going end you.
What pisses me off is that so many who suffer my effects ignore the gifts I bring. I never get credit for that part–empathy, thoughtfulness, creative genius.
And here’s what might surprise you.
When you drag yourself out of that dark hole fighting, I can’t help but feel proud. So if you let me, I can inspire you, too.
Think about it. So many talented people suffer under my weight but go on to make great music, paint beautiful pictures, or write inspiring literature. Some don’t win, but most do. And think of all the gifts left to us by those who live with me in their life.