Depression and the zest to commit physical, mental, or spiritual suicide is (has been) running rampant through the hearts, minds, and souls of many people, including myself. Depression can (and will) hit you harder than a freight train crashing into a crowd of onlookers or zoned out tourists in a state of “awe.” Depression will break you down into miniscule pieces of scum until you are no longer recognizable … your reflection becomes your enemy and your existence seems obsolete. It can hit anyone (no matter your social, economic, religious, sexual, or psychological status) at any given time.
It all started when I was in my late 20’s … I woke up one morning, removed myself from my squeaky bed, and walked into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. The face I once loved, I hated. The figure I once envied became an indistinct memory. The voice I once had was nothing more than a faint whisper. I could feel the devil’s son’s lust creep up my night gown … I could feel his breath against my aching neck … I could feel his dark, vile, dreary, and lonely cast overpower my feeble frame. The image I saw was not that of a woman, it was more so the image of a corpse or a famished zombie. My eyes were red and my skin was clammy. I felt like a stillborn baby just extracted from its mother’s womb. I was possessed by the spirit of the devil’s son … his name is/was depression.
I didn’t want to live in this world of distrust … this world of disorganization … this world of chaotic disorder. I would sit on the floor (indian style) in total darkness with my head down as tears flowed down my face. My house was in total disarray (dishes piled for days, soiled clothes scattered up and down the stairs, and unfinished meals decaying on my best dinnerware). The stench of death reeked from my body. I didn’t want go outside to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin or feel the breath of the Universe race against my back. I would often dress in all black because I wanted to be casket ready. Suicidal thoughts consumed me … drained me … almost killing (murdering) my creative self.
People would often say, “Stop being depressed.” My only response would be, “WTF do you mean?” Depression is not some common cold that easily goes away with Robitussin, a few cough drops, a good night’s sleep, and/or a call to the doctor the next morning. It is an ailment that attacks you like a blood thirsty leech … latching onto you until life no longer offers you support. Depression is a serious “out-of-body” disease that can (and will) destroy daughters, sisters, mothers, aunts, uncles, fathers, sons, grandfathers, grandmothers, etcetera, etcetera … leaving the all-so-familiar question of, “Why?” unanswered. Most of us that suffer from depression do not make it out alive. I chose not to seek help from a professional therapist or expose my body to prescription drugs (often leading to an addiction and/or a chemical imbalance). I sought help from family members and close friends. I even kept a daily journal (expressing my feelings).
I ask that everyone bow their heads in a moment of silence in remembrance of all those souls we lost … every one doesn’t have the strength or the support to create a happily every after.
This story of mine is to be continued …
My battle with depression is not over, but I have learned to channel my deleterious thoughts into something more positive and meaningful. This blog has become a form of therapy for me … allowing me to express my inner most “unfiltered” thoughts (from dating douchebags to taking dumps). I’ve recognized the elements that bring me the most joy and I tend to eliminate those things that cause me to go into a state of “derailment.” My creator is not through with me yet. I still have many, many more miles to burn. My passport to living life will receive uncountable stamps, nationally and internationally.
I can only share with you a portion of my story … my chapter (which I still seem to edit). I hope to reach the masses or just one person who doesn’t feel his/her life matters. We all have a purpose … we all are destined to be greater than the eye can see. If someone you know is battling depression, please be their strength … be their spine … be their backbone. They seem weak, but you are strong. Listen to them without judgement. You too can save a life.
Today, as I stand with my head held to the clouds … I can honestly say, I’ve never been happier. Always remember there’s never an end to your story … there’s always a new beginning … a new chapter to compose. I will continue to place my steel plated, pastel pink boxing gloves on each hand and continue to beat depression’s ass … TKO Mofo!
This is the time to LIVE … this is the greatest time of my life.