My melancholy tells me that I ‘m broken.
It’s a sentence that’s been replicating through my head for recent days. I’m broken. My heart is destroyed. My spirit is destroyed. My spirit feels like it’s irrevocably broken too. I feel as though this up climb that I’ve been fighting through has only gotten steeper and I, myself, have gotten poorer. I fight through each day using a grin on my face for fear that if a person sees the pain underneath, they’d see the actual me.
I speak to my melancholy like it’s another man. It sees me from time to time and I don’t understand the length of time it’s going to stay. We get into arguments and we fight continuously over who’s going to hold. I keep saying it’s me but right now I’m not certain if it is. !
I break so readily on things that I never believed would damage me. I lose a time once I used to get through the day without an Ativan. I miss not needing to remember to take my antidepressants daily. I miss not feeling like getting out of bed was a chore and that my feelings weren’t a weight. !
Because right now, my feelings do feel as a weight. I feel like I can’t be reliable with folks without them stressing that I’m going to do something reckless. I’m tired of melancholy being this huge part of me that I ‘ve to always acknowledge also. It feels like something that I only need to keep concealed and not let define me.
The reality is though that my melancholy does define me. It’s a portion of me, a tremendous part. It leads to all my choices and my strong paranoia of not being good enough. !
while I begin dating folks, I must inform them the reason I don’t have greater than one glass of wine is because it screws up my antidepressants. I can’t only say that one sentence with no follow up explanation concerning the reason why I’m on antidepressants.
I despise feeling vulnerable. I despise the way someone looks at me after I tell them about my melancholy. I hate feeling as though something is fundamentally wrong with me even though deep down inside I feel like something’s incorrect. !
My mother once inquired would it be the worst thing to be on antidepressants for the remainder of my entire life? It’dn’t be the worst thing but then it’s acknowledging that it is a long-term mental illness I’ll fight with for the remainder of my own life. I don’t would like to consider it as something that I can’t treat because I don’t wish to believe in its longevity.
But there’s a truly strange thing that happens every once in a while whenever I discuss my story. I meet other folks feeling exactly the same manner. I meet people that feel guilty the melancholy makes things feel a 100 times worse than they really are. I meet those who feel as though while there actually isn’t anything incorrect inside their life, they simply can’t appear to be happy.
That’s the matter about depression, there’s no actual reason to have it, you simply do. It’s a portion of your brain. It’s some thing which is for some reason your reality. It’s mine also.
So I get through the terrible days attempting to recall that even though my brain is telling me I’m broken or that there’s something wrong with me, there actually isn’t. I ‘ve a bit of a tougher challenge than some but a little simpler of a conflict than many others.
You can’t compare your challenges to anyone. You can’t let your mental illness tell you you’re useless. You should discover the internal strength you’ve discovered this way and pull from it when the days get tough. !
Melancholy is part of me but it doesn’t possess me. It doesn’t possess you either. Not now. Not ever.