The Cycle of Depression: A Narrative of A Depressed Person Going Through Major Bad Times
The Cycle of Depression: A Narrative
For the record, I wrote this in 2005 while going through a bad time. I don't feel like this anymore; I just wanted to share so others can know that life gets better!
Today I feel like I am very close to rock bottom. I had a long day today and it did not go well. I'm going nuts. I am so sad that it hurts. I know that I shouldn't, but I look at old pictures and I become extremely nostalgic. I really miss her. I miss what we had when things were good. I am addicted to her. It is a codependent, unhealthy relationship. And even though I know; I don't care. I just want to be with her and be happy. I know that this can't be and then eats me alive. I am truly hurting.
I watched the Oprah show today and a guy named James Prey was on. He wrote a book called, “A Million Little Pieces”, which is a dramatic account of him overcoming drug and alcohol abuse. I immediately went out to buy the book, but of course, they were all sold out.
I think of her every waking moment. I wish we could go for another walk in the woods, watch another movie, and spend another night together. I long to hold her-to kiss her soft, sweet lips. We are such a chemistry that is magnetic. It feels like destiny – our souls wrap around each other during our intimacy. The day I left I was miserable. As usual, the first thing I did was go to a bar. That day was one of the worst days in my life. I can't recall it crystal clear. While it was at the bar with a good buzz on, I wrote the following on a series of napkins:
“This is my letter. This is the testimony that will last forever. I fear the inside… If you should find this, know that this was neither my calling nor my vocation. I have been deprived of my right – and so will they – we always are. Nobody knows what I have seen, what I have heard. It is power lifting for my heart; too much stress. I can't concede that I could have done better if given a better chance. I have used up my chances; always unaware and not knowing. Yet, at the same level, I could have walked away. It is too easy to blur love and emotion and turning into bad situations. Whoever said, "no love lost", never really truly loved.
This is not a journey – it is a warpath waiting for the next landmine to explode under my feet. But it's my fault as I knew that they were there before I stepped on them. I stole milk from the cow. Is it self-fulfilled, or is it destiny? Maybe it’s both. I am numb, yet, I can feel the pain. It starts with dark, rich, moist soil. Then comes the sun; then there is growth, the rain, the weeds that try to choke you. Then it turns over again – more rain, more soil, and more growth; then again, it chokes you. It is inconceivable of what I know. Evil does prevail. God, insecurity, and the whole damn Trilogy is just a hoax. There is no safe because safety itself is compromised. It is not real. Illusions are what humans seek. That is the reason for the news and cable TV.
Have you ever seen someone die? Have you ever seen a dead person? I mean really die – take their last breath right in front of you? I have, and I know that men in war see more, but that just justifies their visions. As for me, I have seen; I can smell death. Death is a position in the moment of life from conception; there is no turning back once you're born. Your life is a series of still-frames and pictures that can't be erased. They can be manipulated, changed, deleted, even renamed – but they are still there.
I was in a situation that I compromised. I am emotionally drained but I pulled my own plug. I am drowning in my own vomit. Everyone blames Eve for original sin; I blame myself. I can't understand how it all began, but I am living proof of the end. I thought I had it all. Not even close to perfect, but I did have something. Under no circumstances of this earth and life could I ever receive a better gift than you. This is the medical examiner passing off a live person as dead. This is the hearse, losing the body on the way to a funeral.
I am only human. But I am not a good one. Its okay to curse me, hate me. You can need me more than I hate myself. I am so empty that if you gave me water, I would choke. I would not know to do. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself, but I can't. I miss the noise that drove me nuts. I miss the voice that kept me in check. I miss it, but I gave it all away. If I could rewind; I would have been stronger. I would've spoke up sooner. Crap, I would've done something just to stay alive. But I can't rewind. I am here now, recording this testimony…”
I just ripped up and threw out those napkins. I felt a slight release in doing so. That night was so bad. I was crushed. (10/2005)
Essays and Poems of J.S.Matthew
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© 2011 JS Matthew