This is a very personal post for me. It doesn’t relate to writing, or any creative endeavour, but rather the battle I have with my demons on a day to day basis.
The sadness and despair has been creeping up on me for a little while now. I usually describe depression as feeling like I’m standing on a beach, where the tide meets the sand, my back to the sea. There is a huge wave about to come down and engulf me. Most of the time, I keep the tsunami at bay, but it’s always there, waiting.
This week, the tsunami won. The sadness I feel all the time welled up inside me, and overflowed. The trigger was minor, (it always is); but it was enough for me to let the floodgates open. I just sat on the bed, sobbing. Lamenting the failure of my life, how I’ve not achieved anything of significance, how no one knows me, how I feel I’ve missed out on so many opportunities, how dreams have been crushed, how ugly I feel, how I just plod along, rootless; no sense of belonging anywhere or being part of something.
Obviously, it felt good to let it all out. Afterwards, I felt spent, exhausted. Boyfriend took me to the pub for a couple of hours, we came back, had dinner; but by 9.30, I had to go to bed. The mental and emotional toll depression takes on the body’s physicality is significant. The anxious butterflies in my stomach have been a constant reminder that something bigger was on its way.
I’m halfway through a week off, a week in which I should be focusing on my writing. Horizon Skies has suffered for my lack of motivation, and I have other works needing my attention. I’m full of good intentions, until that tsunami sweeps them all away; then I lose myself in gaming or reading, my only forms of escape. I become lazy, demotivated and uncaring.
I should exercise, it makes me feel good. I managed to lose half a stone this year, then hit a plateau, and haven’t lost any since. Just another hurdle to get over. I like how exercise makes me feel energised, it’s true that it does wonders for one’s state of mind. Those happiness hormones should be bottled.
Of course, I will fight back. I always do. I’m battle scarred and weary, but I am a fighter, and I always remember what a former therapist once told me of how I’m “psychologically strong”. I arm myself with this knowledge as I go to war.
Aspires To Create 