Depression Reflection

Depression Reflection

Depression has a physical feeling too, you know.
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Depression. It’s a heavy word, and one that we are all too familiar with in our day and age. You probably know someone close to you that struggles with it, or maybe you do yourself. For a lot of people who have never had depression though, it’s hard to put into words what it feels like. Sure we all know the consequences of depression, and sure we all know it means that someone is sad, but it is (unfortunately) so much more than that. It’s not just an emotional state, but a physical and mental one as well. I myself struggle with depression, and while depression isn’t the same for everyone, this is what it feels like to me.

Depression feels like a solid stone, the same temperature as your body, that has been lodged in your chest. It's heavy, yet you cannot feel it. It weighs on your chest, and though it's as imaginary as my childhood fairy friend, it controls me in a way my imaginary friend never could. It holds me down and back, and makes me stress over the world I'm trying to ignore, praying devotedly that the world ignores me right back.


I have ambition and drive, cunning wit, and resourcefulness. When I don't feel my depression, that is. The moment that my depression hits me like a wall, it's as if I'm an empty sack of sorrow, feeling nothing, wanting nothing, and receiving nothing. The only thing I can even possibly imagine doing is laying down and doing purely nothing. Nothing is quite easy to imagine, after all. I do cry, sometimes, but don't ask me why. I'm sad, yet this is for no reason that I have found. My face is wet, and tears often fall over down one cheek, over my nose, only to join up with the other tear on my other cheek, then landing softly on the bed beneath my face.

The tears somehow relieve my chest, as if all the useless tears are stored where the stone is and by crying I'm emptying space for the stone, causing less pressure inside of me. And while the tears are relieving, they are also infuriating. I hate crying, especially for no reason at all. I hate crying, especially when it's neither the time nor place. I hate crying, especially when I'm around my friends and all they want to do is help.

"Can't you just go away and let me weep and mourn in numb sorrow over nothing? And if you do want to help then hug me and say nothing!" I cry out. But not aloud, oh no. Never out loud. Always quietly and inside myself.

But back to when I do cry and can't control it, I can't feel the emotions that make me cry, or even comprehend what might make me cry. This confuses me beyond all belief, and makes me annoyed at the fact that I don't know why I'm upset or why I'm crying or why I'm not alright and happy like everyone else.

I don't get the tears and why I cry at those times, and I don't think I ever will.

I don't get why I lack all of my strongest driving qualities at those times, and I don't think I ever will.

I don't get why my chest is heavy at those times, and I don't think I ever will.

I don't get why I have and struggle with depression, and I don't think I ever will.

I don't understand any of it, ever, at all, and I don't think I ever will.

Cover Image Credit: www.precisionnutrition.com

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Everything You Will Miss If You Commit Suicide

The world needs you.
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You won’t see the sunrise or have your favorite breakfast in the morning.

Instead, your family will mourn the sunrise because it means another day without you.

You will never stay up late talking to your friends or have a bonfire on a summer night.

You won’t laugh until you cry again, or dance around and be silly.

You won’t go on another adventure. You won't drive around under the moonlight and stars.

They’ll miss you. They’ll cry.

You won’t fight with your siblings only to make up minutes later and laugh about it.

You won’t get to interrogate your sister's fiancé when the time comes.

You won’t be there to wipe away your mother’s tears when she finds out that you’re gone.

You won’t be able to hug the ones that love you while they’re waiting to wake up from the nightmare that had become their reality.

You won’t be at your grandparents funeral, speaking about the good things they did in their life.

Instead, they will be at yours.

You won’t find your purpose in life, the love of your life, get married or raise a family.

You won’t celebrate another Christmas, Easter or birthday.

You won’t turn another year older.

You will never see the places you’ve always dreamed of seeing.

You will not allow yourself the opportunity to get help.

This will be the last sunset you see.

You’ll never see the sky change from a bright blue to purples, pinks, oranges and yellows meshing together over the landscape again.

If the light has left your eyes and all you see is the darkness, know that it can get better. Let yourself get better.

This is what you will miss if you leave the world today.

This is who will care about you when you are gone.

You can change lives. But I hope it’s not at the expense of yours.

We care. People care.

Don’t let today be the end.

You don’t have to live forever sad. You can be happy. It’s not wrong to ask for help.

Thank you for staying. Thank you for fighting.

Suicide is a real problem that no one wants to talk about. I’m sure you’re no different. But we need to talk about it. There is no difference between being suicidal and committing suicide. If someone tells you they want to kill themselves, do not think they won’t do it. Do not just tell them, “Oh you’ll be fine.” Because when they aren’t, you will wonder what you could have done to help. Sit with them however long you need to and tell them it will get better. Talk to them about their problems and tell them there is help. Be the help. Get them assistance. Remind them of all the things they will miss in life.

For help, call 1-800-273-TALK (8255).

Cover Image Credit: Brittani Norman

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I Won’t Let You Get to Me Anymore, Due Dates

I've run the numbers, I've faced facts over the past few months; it is time for a change.

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I am anxious about this.

I mean, it is not as though this is some monumental revelation. I am always anxious, waiting on the next box on my to-do list to appear, unchecked and wreaking havoc on my brain as I attempt to sleep, eat a meal, relax, do my other work.

I am always anxious when faced with these things.

Maybe it is a crucial application for a position I very much want to earn. Maybe it is a request for a letter of recommendation I can't seem to work my way out of nerves to send. Maybe it is a deadline for course registration that I've been attempting to tune for months. Maybe it's any sitting across from me, pasted on this flickering computer screen and fidgeting nervously back in my direction every time I attempt to progress. Maybe it's all of these. Deadlines and due dates weave their way in and out of my brain, hiding behind swells of personal emotional struggles, in the shadows of even larger projects to which I must attend, amongst the whispered thoughts of relational matters that require my immediate attention. Past me always seem to have an excuse to burden future me with the workload. Future me bites down stress as I stare into the void of my flickering computer screen, fending off the urge to scream with one hand and typing generally empty thoughts with the other.

Why is it always the things most important to me that cause me to halt the fastest? Why is it that the assignments that I am the most desperate to complete make my blood run the coldest? Why am I stopped in my place by electronic obstacles, agonizing for so long over how to complete them perfectly that stress shuts down my brain for another day and says "Try again tomorrow"? Deadlines and due dates always seem to get the best of me.

But I don't want that anymore.

I have faced a swarm of personal, social, academic, you-name-it trials which have sent my past semester sprinting off and left me behind. I have hit my breaking point. I have buried myself in pillows and browser windows, let procrastination seep into my veins, forgotten what "carpe diem" means as I watch my time turn into yet another yesterday.

I am anxious, yes. I want it to be for a different reason than because I let myself slip on something important. I want this to be the time when I set aside the struggles that were bringing me down in exchange for a change of pace.

The desire to put off work has unfortunately always enticed. It teaches the lesson of discipline and mocks the nap-taking me into genuine thought for my future. But I have come to realize that this has gotten to the point where these things have begun to make me afraid. I fear I can't do them well, so why do them? Or I know I have no faith in myself, so why try? I forced myself to face the fact that I have begun to put off things because the pattern of my own stress-induced ignorance is making me doubt my work.

I might be rather dumb, objectively speaking. I might not be as capable as someone else. I might not get the position I was going for. I might not pass the test. I might not have the time. I might not be who I want to be. But I cannot know unless I try. I do not want to allow these deadlines to keep me doubting myself and sending me spiraling into a mindset of self-deprecation. I might not be the best. I know I won't ever be perfect. But no one can ever convince me I'm not enough. I might get a hit and I might miss. I might get hit. I don't know what's coming. But I know that these insignificant little electronic obstacles cannot stop me from trying my hardest and getting on the right track.

I won't let these due dates stop me. They might be daunting (not a might, they will definitely be daunting), but the least I can do is give my all.

No more pity. No more excuses. I'm writing this to hold myself to it. I might be scared of the timeline, of feeling like I am unprepared. But I can and will see things through to the end.

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