It has been safely locked away in a vintage, sea green
suitcase. The edges of the case are
frayed, the stitching worn, and the handle nothing more than rusted, cold
metal. I know it’s still there, resting
between fragmentary, faded memories.
Every few years I pull it down from the top shelf of the closet; lonely,
half-forgotten. The dust filters through
the air and invades my nose as I breathe in the musty odor of antiquity. The rusty locks are intact, secure, and
untouched. It has not moved, has not
been touched by another, nor has it been freed from its confines. But how can that be? Years have passed; ages it seems, but, still
it finds its way back to me more often than I care for. I thought, in my foggy, weak state of mind,
that locking it away would keep it from coming back time after time. I thought I was freed, but I know; I’ve
always known that it cannot be contained, controlled. It slips out of its confines to make its way
back to torment me.
“My head is whirling in the darkness, yet it’s not dark but
an overwhelming void. I search
frantically through the void, groping, stumbling on the corpses of others who
could not find the light. It is a heavy
quilt suffocating the innocent sleeper. Self-loathing
wraps its long, writhing tendrils through my soul, squeezes my heart, injects its
dark, heavy ink into my veins. My heart
aches from the wound I made with a sword molded and fired by the Devil
himself. I tear my heart desperately
trying to ease the awful pain. I want to
stop the pain! PLEASE STOP THE
PAIN!!! The void tightens its grip,
squeezing life from my body and mind; leaving me in nothingness. Nothing.
Darkness has won another victory.
I was its prey and it overcame.
Victory to the darkness, its victim has fallen. Nothingness consumes my mind. I feel and see nothing. The darkness has control. No pain, no fear, no regrets. The darkness has won yet another battle.”
Don’t panic, don’t worry… This blog is about Hope, Love, and
Recovery! If you have never suffered
from depression, please keep reading.
Knowledge and understanding breed compassion.
Depression is an ugly shroud of deception! It takes over an otherwise logical and contented
mind and fills it with doubt, paranoia, anger, defeat, self-loathing, fatigue,
worry, and uncertainty. I have lived 43
years with Depression and it has been a battle that has not yet been completely
won, but I am one hell of a fighter! I
don’t give in easily and I won’t lose this battle! As a matter of fact, I’m ahead on the
brightly lit scoreboard. The Home team
is in the lead and the visiting team is struggling to stay in the game.
Depression is a fog that creeps across the soul and into the
mind; slowly and deliberately.
It’s a fist that slams you in the stomach swiftly and
unexpectedly.
It has no playbook, no coach, no offensive coordinator, no
specials team. It’s a rogue out to steal
your sanity and happiness!
It shocks me sometimes how stealth depression can be. Life is moving along just fine and suddenly
one tiny, little thing happens and Depression attacks full force, without
notice, without compassion. Then there are those times when you suddenly realize
that depression has slept with you, walked with you, stalked you for weeks and
even months and you were clueless to its presence. It was soaking in, seeping into every pore,
every cell, and every atom ever so slowly saturating your core.
And, I have to say, one of my Pet Peeves is when people say:
“You don’t look depressed or act depressed.”
Everyone’s depression is their own unique experience. It’s not quantifiable. It’s a police lineup and every person in that
line is guilty. Every one of them has a
different face, a different MO, a different victim, but they are all called by
the same name: Depression.
I know people whose souls and hearts are suffering greatly
from depression, but their outward appearance is one of smiles and positive
expression. We have great actors in this
world and they are not all on the silver screen. They do not all win Oscars for their stellar
performances. They are sitting next to
you in class, they eat potluck with you at church, they live in the same house,
and they work in the office next to you.
They suffer every second of every day in silence.
One of my favorite quotes I’ve seen on Facebook is: “Sometimes when I say, “I’m ok”, I want
someone to look me in the eyes, hug me tight and say, “I know you’re not”.” My burden, so often, seems too heavy for me
to bear; I couldn’t stand knowing that I might have passed my burden on to
someone else. That is why so many suffer
in silence. I know it’s not the ONLY
reason, but it is one. There are times I’m
ready to burst with the pressure of holding in so much depression. There are times I want to talk to someone and
let it all unload, but I don’t. The
thought of sharing my burden with someone else makes me even that much more
depressed. I don’t want to be the next
dump truck unloading on an unsuspecting, innocent person. I’m tough, I can handle the load, I can carry
it further, longer, I can suffer some more.
Or at least that’s what I tell myself. It’s the lie that
springs too easily from my lips, travels the highway of neurotransmitters in my
overwhelmed brain, and sears itself in my limbic system.
To Be Continued…
Copyright © 2012 Life's Casual Observer blog, Lauren Espinoza
