Riding the Waterslide of Depression: That's Where I'm at

I know. I haven't written in QUITE a while. I am not really able to offer any other explanation than Depression itself. Those who suffer know what it’s incredibly easy to slip back into the darkness, all too easy. Depression is like one of those hugeeee tunnel waterslides at a theme park, snaking through the sky like a menacing, artificial python. You look up at the waterslide, standing stories up in the summer sun and promise yourself that you will NEVER ride that one ever. Even the sight of it causes goosebumps to pebble up on your arms and you to start to feel dizzyingly lightheaded. Somehow, someway, you end up standing at the cornice of that same waterslide, confused as to how you even ended up there. ‘I didn't want this, this was not my intention,’ you say as the toothy attendant smiles knowingly down at you. “Go ahead, sit down and enjoy the ride,” he says, as if already planning my untimely demise. You black out and wake up slipping and scrambling alarmingly down the dark tunnel, all light blotted out and unable to find an edge to catch yourself. You scream out for HELP, that you don't want to ride this slide, that you wish to get off….but no one is there to answer your helpless yelps. You are alone in this dark expanse, out of control with no end in sight. From the outside, the slide didn't look as truly life-threatening as it seems actually riding it, but how could you have ever known. You only really know once you take that plunge into the icy, ink-black abyss.

Dramatic, I know. But that’s where I’ve been inside my own head. My mind is starting to envelope me whole again, causing me to act, say, and do things I would have never seen myself doing. To make me cower like a frightened girl and curl up into the fetal position like an abused animal, wishing for the end. Not knowing when this crazy ride is going to end, or if it ever will, is incredibly exhausting. Mentally, emotionally, physically exhausting. I find myself coming home from running errands and plopping down on the couch as if I had just sprinted the way home with all the groceries banging against my legs in their plastic bags. I just want to close my eyes and rest, to shut the noises and lights and thoughts out and hope for a better day tomorrow that most likely wont even happen. I am weak mentally and feel even weaker in my limbs and intensified emotions. Comparing myself to others, the woman standing next to me in the H&M checkout line, my boyfriend’s long gone ex-girlfriends, the women who I admire and strive to be like the most. In my head, I always come up short.

I’m sick of feeling sick. I’m sick of waking up and recognizing the nervous buzzing running throughout my body, before I have even attempted to make my bed, which usually never ends up happening. I hate HATING myself and wishing that I could massively improve in unrealistic ways. I miss seeing my worth. I miss feeling like I am meant to exist for a reason. For any reason for that matter. A compliment to a woman close to me sends me into a spiral, a deep depressive state wondering why I cant achieve/be/look like her? Knowing, however true or untrue, deep down in the marrow of my bones that I will NEVER be loved as much as she. This has nothing to do with the love that I receive, you see. If anything, I am showered with love from those far and near; however you only really accept the love you think you deserve. At this point in time, I am still too much of a burden, a problem, a nagging issue that needs to be dealt with, to deserve the love I am seen to receive. These words will crush my family, my mom, my dad, my boyfriend, my friends. To know that I feel unworthy of any and every gift they wish to give me. Whether that be a kind compliment or a warm hug or even paying for my coffee.

I understand and can rationalize that unnecessary personal punishment is just that, unnecessary and that I am, indeed, deeply cared about. All I can say is sorry. Sorry for the pain, sorry for the hurt, sorry for the self-deprecation. I CAN help it, but I’m not strong enough to right now. Self-deprecation is a way for me to air my flaws that I think others see in me, myself. If I speak badly about my body, my stupidity, my dreams, I am protecting myself from the expected pain of hearing it from others.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I apologize for the radio silence, for the lack of Orange Bead Collective communication. But I am suffering and I am in constant pain. Some months it is simply too much to do anything else but deal with my own mind, nonetheless write or communicate about it. It’s already happened and I promise it will happen again. But I am trying desperately to locate my personal happiness in the every day scenarios. I am trying to love myself in little ways, to serve myself and be selfish in little ways. To start with one positive thought in the morning laying in bed and hope that it leads to more.

Please bear with me and realize that your support means everything. Literally everything. I am not ignoring it, I am silently elated to have those who care and are rooting for me, but am unable to get anything but sadness past my lips at this point. I promise to keep my head up and I promise to keep trying because I know that the slide, the Depression, can’t last forever. I know that one day I will emerge from the bottom, tumbling out into the sun, feeling the warmth crackle and sparkle on my skin. I will breathe freely and peer up into the summer sun, happy to have survived the ride of my life, literally. I will be free to turn around and walk strongly from that slide, never to see it again.