Written a few days ago during poetry group. I couldn’t understand the poem so simply wrote.
I’m so depressed I can’t write. I need coffee desperately or I’m going to fall asleep; I was fine earlier. Not wanting to go with the others to see the eclipse? Depression. I love all things Space. What’s wrong with me? How many things have I missed in my life due to depression? Many, many, many things. I’m exhausted, weak — No! I’m depressed which masks itself in fatigue. I’m clearly writing so I’m not tired. Depression. Makes it hard to eat, to communicate, to feel. I wonder if I’d understand the poem, sitting next to me, if I was back to normal.
I feel a tornado in me of mood instability. Round and round it goes, lacing itself in fears of mania, fears of what people think, fears that everyone hates me if they only knew.
What do I not want people to to see?
What its like to be severely depressed. I’m lucky, or unlucky, that mine is agitated depression. That means I have the weight of the world on me but am energetic so no one notices; another fear. Folks with this are at a higher risk of killing themselves. I want to live. I want to live, but I fear my disorder will accidentally kill me. It’s a fear I live with… always.
It will never go away. This is my life.
Well, it is until I’m manic then Wow, life explodes. Not good. The result of mania is another severe depression. My life. I’m on a tightrope even now, living in between. Round and round, never ending.
There are breaks, islands of calm; where is that island now? When will I see it again? When will I land again and leave this swirling ocean behind? Stability, give me stability. No one knows… We know, those of us who live with a merry-go-round inside.
Take a break — ahhh, coffee — lifting, lifting…
Now I can attend dinner and seem like a normal person. No one will know I have a massive anchor pulling me down, further and further. Just get home. Laugh, joke, don’t let them see. Be normal till you are normal, that is my life.
Is it a lie?
No, this is life with depression. I like people, depression hates people. I act normal so I don’t lose people. “Why not tell people,” you ask? What can they do? What can I do? We can get frustrated so it’s best to just act normal till I am normal then I can revel in my normalness while it lasts.
I cannot let them see….