Depression

I've been having lots of stress recently, and it finally took it's toll on me. In the middle of it all it hasn't felt like I could blog beause I knew I'd be sharing too much. I started this for self expression, but there are some things that aren't public; things which require trust.

I am still striving to be real though, and stand by the contention that only through truth can one really reach out to people, engage with them. So I cant, won't share the reasons - but I will try to do the best I can with my small, humble words.

I suffer from depression. I know what moping is, and I know that some people don't believe you can't just think posative, but it doesn't work that way. One is a partial choice, whereas the former at it's worst is far more debilitating. It's an awareness that you're not right, an emptiness that you can't shake. It is feeling hollow, feeling alone.

Imagine peering into the mirror, attentive in search because you're not quite recognising what you see; its wrong because this image is not the person who you wanted to be. It's looking at people passing you by, staring out in the crowd and thinking it might be the same If you weren't there. Maybe it's even partially beliving it.

I don't choose to feel this way and I'm certainly not always a prisoner to the dark in my mind. But I live with the knowledge that it's my lifes precious moments that I am losing to this thing; not doing the things I want because I don't feel strong enough, laying too much at friends doors and as a result enforcing isolation; all of which means eventually watching like a bystander as I push away the very people I care about most; it is destruction. Then try to deal with things all going to shit, ruining every good thing I have because of this stuff. It's slowly devouring every emotion. And when there is nothing left itll be like killing me.

I struggle not to lose the will. I am so tired of having to fight for my mind, feeling the rapid onset of loss. I am supposed to believe in beauty, so where did it go...where is it in me?

The hurt, the pain is deep. The light of hope is the faintest of glimmers. I strive. I'm trying. And through it all I think of the most moving line I've ever read from a book; called Shantaram, by Gregory David Roberts, it ends:

"God help us. God forgive us. We live on.".