The past few weeks have been very hard. My appetite is gone, I'm distracted, forgetful, anxious and lack motivation. I haven't been answering my phone calls and have been ignoring emails. I wake up in the morning and I'm happy, I have breakfast, I shower but then as soon as I have my clothes on I wonder 'why?', followed by an intense and overwhelming sadness. I'm ready for the day and I have no purpose, no goals and absolutely no will to be a part of what is life.
I feel shame, I feel like a waste of time, money and energy. I feel guilt. I don't look like a slob, I have no addictions and I'm not a negative person, yet I'm so incredibly miserable. My house is clean, laundry is always done and still I feel like I have no grip. I've also been thinking how weird and creepy it is to write (and read) about my issues, as they're only described from my point of view. I find it terrifying because sometimes I have the impression that I have this distraught or deranged view of reality. It's stressing me out tremendously. I doubt every move I make. I ask myself why I'm not dead yet. Why I allow myself to be so sad every day. I don't want to be anymore. I'm so incredibly tired of having to do my duties as a human. Live.
What you just read is what goes trough my head when depression gets the best of me. As I am writing this, it is still the same day, hours later to be exact, and I finally snapped out of it. I don't want to use the words 'managed to snap out of it', because it's not exactly the way it works. It's very confusing to say the least because everything I wrote is true but is only released in that way when I'm feeling sad. I randomly received an exciting business email just a while ago, and it provided me with an adrenaline shot, one that got me out of bed. Even though I should be happy I'm finally back to my 'productive state' I'm still disappointed in myself. I don't want to need an exciting email to snap out of the poisonous cycle that clouds my brain.
As much as I try to educate myself on depression, I often forget that I'm a survivor. Battling a mental illness like depression can be deadly, and even though depressed me couldn't care less, sober me says that I'm lucky.
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