I’m not sure how it is for everyone, but for me, it typically goes a bit like this – I wake up in the afternoon and lay in bed until around 3 or 4 a.m. because my body feels like a giant steel beam. My arms and my legs all weigh about the same, each one so heavy I’m pinned to the bed. I think about getting up and I question why I should leave the only place I find solace, but as the numbness of sleep gradually wears off, I realize I have to force myself up to face the day.

I stagger around the house quietly with my head down, wishing I had hope, wishing I was somewhere else, wishing I had a spark of joy to make me happy. I walk back into my bedroom with a glass of water and am shocked to encounter the rooms condition; there is trash overflowing in the can and on the nightstand, a volcanic eruption of clothes and books lay scattered, stacks of papers having landed in the whirlwind to decorate the floor. Soda cans and wine bottles and empty dishes remind me that I didn’t eat anything again yesterday and now it’s almost 5 o’clock. I can’t remember how many consecutive days I’ve been like this. Has it really been weeks? What happened? This isn’t me. Wait… but it is me. I must be sick again.

“F**K.”

The me that most people know is the one who advocates seeking silver linings and positivity; the one who enjoys cleaning, eating a vegetarian diet, jogging, exploring music, creating art, and helping other people. The one who laughs a lot and has a giant heart full of compassion for animals. I like to think that’s the real me, an energetic, gentle and curious soul.

Imagine now living your life walking on a tight rope. Planning and carefully executing each step in order to stay on the line, knowing that if the wind unexpectedly blows too strong you may fall. Imagine trying to constantly pull yourself from a dark well, each day climbing up or slipping down. Imagine conjuring up your best genuine smile and holding the door for a stranger because it makes them feel better, when really you just want to keep walking with your head down. This is how depression operates in my life and it’s exhausting.

Anxiety, depression, and PTSD are all insidious disorders that creep up on me when I’m busy doing my best trying to live a happy, fulfilling life. My mind gets consumed with repetitive thoughts, my dreams get ravaged by night terrors, and my hope gets destroyed despite my daily prayers and utterances of gratitude. I lay awake until the birds begin to chirp fighting myself to sleep. And even when sleep happens, rest remains far away.

I want to be happy, truly. I want to wake up and greet the sun, excited for a bright new day. I’m on my second year of daily medication, you’d think waking up would be easy by now, but sometimes it’s just not. Sometimes it’s my greatest accomplishment for the whole day. Maybe if someone walked into my room, they’d say, “Oh, my, what a lazy pig this one is,” and trust me, that’s what it feels like, but please know it’s not voluntary – I, nor anyone who suffers from a mental disorder, want to struggle each day just to feel okay; it’s not a choice.

Sometimes my load gets too heavy and I give up. I stop fighting to be okay. I lay in bed, filth rising around me, mechanically going through the daily motions. I get consumed and swept away into that existential darkness. The beauty in my problem is that I’ve come to realize that nothing lasts forever; this too shall pass. After a bout of wallowing it’s as if a spark gets lit in my eyes and I understand that it’s time to be kind to myself; to be patient and understanding. Only then can I ride the wave back to shore and start cleaning up the mess, one dirty t-shirt and crumpled paper at a time.

Bauhaus, All We Ever Wanted Was Everything, Lyrics:

All we ever wanted was everything

All we ever got was cold
Get up, eat jelly, sandwich bars and barbed wire
And squash every week into a day

Oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh

The sound of the drum is calling
The sound of the drum has called
Flash of youth shoot out of darkness
Factory town

Oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh