As I laid sprawled across the bed tears spilled from my eyes in steady streams. The stitching on our quilt felt soothing against my weary skin and I hugged my pillow closer. This is too familiar, I’ve done this too many times. Exhausted by the weaving and winding of this road, unable to see what monsters lurk around the next bend. In reality, the monsters hide in the folds of my own mind, creatures I create without knowledge or intention.
I don’t want to die like so many times before; I want to live and that seems to be the problem. I know the steps involved when my brain tells me death is the only answer, I reach out. But this time is different. This time the sadness is coming from somewhere else. I actually want to take an active part in my life, yet I can’t figure out how to do so. I’m stuck, which is familiar, but I am stuck in an unfamiliar place.
I don’t even know what I’m feeling but it’s culminating inside me like these afternoon summer storms. The air is heavy, it’s building pressure and rolling in with the thunder. I feel it in my bones, under my skin, through and through. I can’t be breaking again, it’s too soon for that. I’m just getting back on my feet. No, I can’t be breaking again. I don’t know what this is, maybe it’s uncertainty playing games with my mind, tricking me into thinking I’m losing control. I can’t lose control. I must take ownership of my vessel in these tumultuous waters. The boat is dipping in the waves and rocking like it will flip but we’ve been through a thousand storms and I haven’t sunk yet, not completely. I refuse to go down, I’m too strong for that now. Depression won’t win this one, this time I make the rules. The storm will rage, the winds may whip me about and rain may soak me but I will stand tall and take everything it throws my way.
No, I will not drown today, not in this storm or tomorrows. I will look depression in the eyes, I will look myself in the eyes and shout I AM ENOUGH! In fact, I am more than enough, I am thriving through every obstacle thrown at me. My tears don’t make me weak, they’re just a way of shedding the excess emotions, emotions I don’t need to hold inside. Depression forces me to over think and over-emote, I have to purge those emotions somehow. If we weren’t meant to cry our bodies wouldn’t create tears, so I won’t be ashamed of releasing them anymore. I won’t be ashamed of who I am because that only hurts ME. I am over feeling sorry for myself, what a waste! Of course I will have bad days, everyone has bad days, they aren’t just reserved for those of us struggling with depression. However, I will no longer let them defeat me like they have in the past, they will not destroy me. History has proven that nothing can destroy me.