My Depression Epitaph
What my depression looks like: It is the Jabberwocky.
It rears its ugly head when you least expect. It fights to tear your soul apart and spit it into the flame. Your passion is dulled like an unsharpened knife, but it cuts you piece by piece. You hold your head high but your shoulders slouch. You only have energy to stay on the couch. Tears bottled up inside, but you don’t have the strength to cry your heart out or even stay awake. Hurt so bad, it aches; life so fragile, it breaks. All your past mistakes conglomerate into one big hate: of yourself. Please don’t let this be my fate. I only want to be great again. A dragon lies at the foot of my bed, laying wait until I feel good again, only to find that day won’t come: is this the end?
It’s a war on the frontline of hope and fate. It’s a pain I simply cannot tolerate. The villain of my past is all I see; why does this have to happen to me? The slovenly feeling does not budge, and my old “friend” fear keeps me holding a grudge. The voices express distress but my body says yes to hopelessness. Self-care falls by the wayside as you bide time in the prison of your mind. A bombastic force has awakened the fundamental lethargy, and yet you find no rest; no solace in the solitude.
There is no ladder to the heavens when you are that far down, it is an uphill climb, too far off to recall. No escape in sight. No view of land in the sea of lonely. A peace without peace. A song without music. A grinding teeth that never lets up. You want to throw-up the aches to no avail. A dry heave is all that is left. And yet, you find yourself with an emptiness so consuming, it is palpable. It is tangible, the abyss lying no longer dormant in the mind, body, and spirit. Am I a lost cause? Has this blackhole swallowed me whole?
Then you remember your name, and the rules of the game. You take a chance to make it back to advance. Your worries float away, and the sun shines during the day. The fog clears and the voices affirm the respite and rest and resilience you have earned. You go on your way to make room in your heart for a lightning spark to light love in your dark. You jumpstart. And action becomes doable, recovery is provable, and your future is moveable.
I feast on the present, make wise my decision to grab the bull by the horns and run with precision into a world of graceful collision between light and dark. It’s not all bad anymore. Its a mixture to appreciate how far I’ve come, to become the reason I wake up and make up my mind to push forward. Onward and upward to the kingdom of the “walking happy”.
What my love looks like: Alice through the looking glass, and all I see are blue skies ahead.