Submission: Notes from the Trough

We received an anonymous submission from one of our followers that they would like to share – a piece they have written during a hard period in their life struggling with depression.

Notes from the Trough

The nausea wakes me.
It starts from the tip of my sternum and spreads upwards towards my clavicles and it stays and it stays.
It’s not going to be a very good day.
A frown begins to form and my eyes start welling up with tears.
I find myself in a state of paralysis.
Paralyzed by both the bed and my state of mind.

I am stripped down to nothing but a state of hopelessness – of helplessness. Nothingness.
The cells in my body marching towards a funeral, marching to death. There’s no point in living.

I struggle because I am unable to control this state of utter and deep depression that has creeped up on me with absolutely no explanation – completely uninvited and lacking aetiology.

Depression takes over me.
It controls me.
And I lose my old self.
My happy productive smart creative beautiful self.
She starts slipping through my fingers in fragments and moves farther and farther away.

And suddenly I am unable to grasp how I was once her – she – with vitality, desire and energy.

All the energy that’s left in me is to be nothing. I lack being somebody.

I force myself to do something, to be somewhere, but being surrounded by others, answering the phone, eating, anything, becomes a massive struggle. The biggest hurdle.
I lack the ability to be functional and pretending takes a tremendous amount of effort.
My only ambition is to crawl back into bed and sleep and sleep deeply for hours on end to escape this state of being. 
Away from feeling alienated. Away from feeling depersonalized.

And I feel the weight of the anvil on my chest and I cannot breathe.
All the Goodness
Happiness
Hope
sucked out of my soul by this weight.

I can’t imagine being normal again.

Then the rug gets swept under my feet again and again
and I tremble
and I’m short of breath
and the sense of impending doom kicks in. The anxiety.

And I lament myself for feeling this way.
I want it to stop.
I want to move.
I want to eat.
I want to read.
To live.
To see.
To do.
To think.
To think that life is worth living.
That things matter again.
That life is beautiful.

But I can’t.
I try and I try
But I can’t.
The darkness remains
The nausea
The tears
The overwhelming sadness
The bleakness of life
Are constant reminders
And they have taken over.
And today they have won

 

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1 comment

  1. M 2 years ago April 23, 2017

    I’m really sorry to hear that you’re experiencing this… The line about being unable to grasp a time of vitality resonated with me, I really hope things get better <3 one week or one month at a time…

    REPLY

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