I figured out what rain was when I walked beneath your cloud. I walked around and saw droplets falling without a single sound. I knew I had found your sadness when tears washed upon my eyes. They felt like my tears feel when I cry sometimes. That’s when I realized we were crying as one. It wasn’t rain at all I felt, I was standing under the sun.
I don’t view depression as waves, at least not for me. My depression feels like white flakes in a snow globe and are activated when something shakes me to my core. I become the center and the space around me becomes my world, a world I cannot see. While blinded I feel my swinging mood aiming for me like a gauntlet and I am the fool that has entered into it blind. No matter how hard I try, I simply cannot escape.
It has been 17 years since I found out about my birth mom and my sister. It has been 12 years since I tried to kill myself the first time. It has been 9 years since I found happiness again. Through those transitions I have relearned my depression. Through those years I have grown to accept it and myself.
People always want to fix things. Fix your smile so it looks just right, fix your attitude so it fits your new smile, and while we are at it let’s fix your past so you can finally move on. Depression? Take these meds, a few more pills. Lay back down on this couch… aren’t you comfortable yet? Tell me about your problems so I can tell you why they aren’t really issues. Let me know all your concerns so I can explain how you created them. Men and women in white coats scribbling your life away in a second. Trying to find the answers when we don’t even know the question.
Depression settles at the bottom. It never goes away. It never “finally leaves.” When happiness slams the door who is the first to notice and peep their head from waiting closet? Who knows just the right words to whisper in your ear so that you question the answers you once had?
Feelings come like a shaking sun and all you can do is stand there in your crystal prison and wait.
I see and read the struggle everyday. Our struggles, through the posts, they become a canopy. A hanging remembrance of sadness felt. Overwhelming because it overshadows us, we cannot turn about.
Our path, a shared path, with memory stones. A stone for each soul that thought they were alone. We walk, a shared path, never knowing that we share the way. One way, one path, yet no one else feels this way we say.
I read about a fallen star today. Another star, someone else’s fall, but it feels the same. A stinging pain that stays like a stain. Look down, not up, we’ll be ok.