The following blog is my update on how I’m dealing with depression and my mental health. Read and know me better than you already do. Unfold my epitaph.
I wake up to spring today. The sun has come down a little and is peeping through my window, vying for my attention. It doesn’t know I was up all night so I’ll need another hour and a half of sleep before I can plaster a smile and chant good morning to it. Um, it isn’t a good morning. I’ve learned to wake up to all this light that’s essentially a never ending nightmare. Growing up, I was told I was a very different child because I was more emotional and had learnt to put things in perspective at a very early age. When the adults are always fighting, the kids ought to grow up sooner than they normally would. That was one compliment that I would deter with selfish audacity. I couldn’t come to terms with the fact that other people acknowledge my struggle and put me in good light for fighting the same. I’ve come a full circle since.
My life moved in a vicious circle and I’m here again. Everyone tells me that I’m different and stronger for fighting Depression like I do. I deter this compliment but for very different reasons now. To be brutally honest, I don’t fight. I just let the overarching enemy move about and over me. I don’t move, don’t make a noise. Sometimes, it puts a hand over my mouth and I don’t fringe. I’ve grown so accustomed to it becoming the shadow of my shadow that I’ve found myself a new person to walk with, to hear me twaddle. If the only way to make myself feel something is to feel some pain, I’ll take that deal. I’m so tired of being obtuse of my own world that I’m ready to dragoon myself into accepting, not fighting it.
There were days when I couldn’t get out of bed and couldn’t function like a normal human being. One day, I woke up and decided to change that. I fooled myself into believing that being functional will help me overcome the tassel. So I went about working and making things happen. And now, I’m a functional person with depression. It is like a wound inside my mind, I just have to be careful to not touch it because when for some reason, that happens… I’m in bed again, munching on chocolates that I hate, not able to open the door for my room mate.
I don’t fight, I ignore it. I ignore it until it lets me get away with it. It’s always there but I pretend to be a normal person that can laugh on absurd jokes and go shopping and click 100 pictures with her friends. When people stop asking about it and when you don’t have to be in the position of answering them and look for answers you don’t have, you forget it’s there. However, it is. And it is consuming you. But at least you have the luxury of being left alone and FORGET.