Living with depression to me is like living with a timed bomb living inside you. The bomb is always ticking away, ready to go off at anytime. And when it does it sends you spiraling down into pieces.
Though it isn’t always that dramatic, sometimes it just leaves you not wanting to get out of bed, or not wanting to hang out with your friends. With feeling more depressed for not wanting to get out of bed or hang out with your friends.
But sometimes it just leaves you thinking about the days that have passed, the days you have wasted. How you should have done something with your life by now.
It leaves you feeling stupid. It leaves me feeling stupid.
How could I have been so stupid to waste the day in bed feeling like I wanted to cry when I could have gone to class. Could have put more of an effort. Could have made more friends.
It leads me into a downward spiral until I smash into pieces on the ground.
Its always a slow process of putting myself back together. But always with a new scar to my soul that shows that I broke again.
But its also a scar that shows that I put myself back together again. That I picked myself up and gathered the pieces and glued them back together. It shows that I am okay, That I will be okay.
And sure sometimes I won’t remember that part, I’ll look at the scar and think I am weak, that I broke again. But it isn’t always like that, sometimes when the depression is only a small speck in my chest, I can look at those scars and think I was strong enough to put myself back together.
That is okay. Because its a sign that when my depressing changes from a speck to a all consuming mass, I will always put myself back together.