Depression is weird. It sneaks into a tiny crack in your mind, spawns like crazy, makes friends with Anxiety, and before you know it, the not-so-cute couple are in your head, and your head is in a bottomless pit. You don’t know quite how you got there, let alone how to get out.
But, slowly, you do it. There are footholds, and slips pretending to be footholds, but eventually, you make the treacherous climb. And when you get to the top? What next?
I feel like I’m at the top. I’ve climbed out of that miserable place, but I’m sitting right next to it, afraid to let it go. In an odd twist of life, the deep, dark, black hole became my comfort blanket. It became such a permeating part of my life that I don’t know what to do without it. Be happy? Be content? Oh, no – that’s not me.
What am I without my depression?
I know I am not the only person who feels this way. I also know it’s not all bad. Depression serves a purpose – it must – and I think it’s got something to do with our humanity in what can be a cruel and emotionally sanitised world.
And so, I will keep on creating, and keep on smiling, and, inch by inch, I will sneak away from the pit of depression the way it snuck into my mind.
Wish me luck.