Depression at its Worst

Depression, like anxiety is something that I have had most of my life. And just like with my anxiety its something that I can manage most of the time. But sometimes it just breaks me down.

Depression at its worst feels like a shroud of miasma covering your whole person. It steals itself into your lungs making it hard to breath.

It clouds your head with darkness as you slowly start to loss sight. Slowly it starts to seep into your brain as it seeps it into darkness taking your thoughts down into a place void of anything else.

It’s a heavy blanket that crushes you as you lay their alone as it slowly starts to take your breath away.

It’s the feel of hands on your throat as it takes your voice from you. Never to let you say the words you want to. Never letting you tell the people you love what you want to.

It’s the river that seems to have grown from your body and found escape from your eyes. The river that seems like it goes on forever with a never-ending supply from the ocean.

It’s the monster that you can feel draped over your back and can be heard whispering in your ear. It weighs your every step, forcing you to drag it with you as you struggle with every step forward. The monster that is trying to pull you backwards with it.

It’s the voices that you can hear whispering your every bad thought. The voices that latch onto your pain and play it back for you on loop.

It’s the twin you see in the mirror that may look like you but the person that you can’t find anything incoming with. Its the person that you can not see your self in but know that they are in your likeness.

It’s all the pain that feels like should have left marks on your person. The marks that you can feel but are invisible to anybody but your self.  The marks that you see in the mirror, but everybody else sees nothing.

It’s all of this and more. Depression is everything and nothing when it’s at its worst. You see it, and you definitely feel it. But others don’t

They see just you, they see nothing wrong with you. They see no wounds, they see no marks. They just see a person.

And you want them to see it, but you also don’t. You want them to feel your pain, but you don’t.

You want them to understand. But you don’t.

To me this is depression when it’s at its worst. But it is also so much more. Because I live with my depression everyday. I have to worry if today this will be me.

And I get better, I wont let depression win and take over my life. And I have ways to cope.

But just like with my anxiety I wish that I never had to have ways to cope. Or that I had to get better at all.

That I just had to live my days without the clouds overhead.

But I can’t have that and so I just go on with my life and not let it take over. And just because I wish that it wasn’t there does not mean that I let myself live in that pity.

I work to keep it down. And sure I have times when I don’t win that fight and it takes over. But I get it down eventually.

Because I will not let it win forever. I will live my life.

Even if that means having to fight this fight forever.

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