Depression is a funny thing.. It is almost invisible except in the mind where the damage is the most prevalent.. Where the demons reside.. Where the black hole exists..
I am intimate with these things.. The loneliness, the disappointment, the constant self recrimination, the constant cycle of wanting to feel better, and never really achieving that feeling..
In this debilitation resides a person who is so lost she feels like all of hope of being found is unattainable. She lives in a place where the darkness and pain intermingle and whisper their dark secrets in the shadows of her mind to the point she sometimes cannot tell where the reality begins and the deceit of her own psyche ends..
This is where I live.
In the damaged place that is my mind, this is where my journey has led me time and time again. I am beginning this journal of sorts to see where it takes me. To see if I indeed survive it and overcome, or if this is where I will find my final repose..
For the longest time I have talked about events, places, things, abstract objects that have been used in my plight, what most would call the plight of my own undoing... So now in an effort, one last effort to live.. to survive, and hopefully unlock whatever murky despair I can never seem to release my soul from.. I write. An honest, true, depiction of the extremely low low's and the frothy unattainable highs that seem to crash harder with each low..
Am I bipolar? Don't know. What I do know is that I have been diagnosed by many, many doctors and that is not a conclusion any have come to. It could be that I have never been very real with my deepest, most troubling feelings. Afraid that if they escape the depths in which I hide them, then that will really be it.. Whatever IT may be..
It's a new year, and the last 6 months of the old year, well haven't been so hot. The things I have looked forward to, haven't entirely gone as I had hoped. The relationships with my family have crumbled a little more with each visit.. I complete a deadly cycle that I know will be my hugest detriment, in the hope of having a few moments peace, only to realize each time it becomes worse. Someone I love very much one time told me I need to find a way to stop "circling the drain". Maybe the drain is actually where I belong? Maybe there is peace there. Maybe it is still, and my brain can finally be quiet? I'm not sure.
What I pray for everyday, almost a chant to a God that I hope is still there... "Please help me" Because I don't know what else to say. So I take to writing, which has saved me before, in the hopes it will save me again.
