My Aunty has died.
For a moment all I could hear was white noise. And my world, which has been feeling more and more like an empty space, closing in on me these past months, has become even smaller.
I can’t breathe.
I’ve lived with depression all my life. But I’m used to being high functioning. That means I get things done even though I feel horrible, like a bottomless pit of nothingness. I write, I go out, I smile, I engage with people… and the bad thing about that is people tend to not understand. Because many think of depression as one walking around trailed by a rainy cloud. And I look fine on the outside.
But for the past several months I’ve not been able to do much. I’ve not written anything meaningful that I wanted to in over a year. Nothing feels meaningful.
My life feels meaningless. Night terrors are wrecking havoc on me, and it is often scary to close my eyes. I get to work, but just about.
It took someone else telling me that these are the typical signs of depression. I was surprised I hadn’t noticed. I’ve lived with it all my life. I blog about it. How could the black dog be staring me in the eyes and I not notice?
It’s because I’ve gone from high functioning to barely functioning.
I’m always surprised when depression hits. It strikes me in waves. Heavy, hard and vicious waves, but I ride them until they subside. Every time, I never seem to remember how I got past the last episode.
It is absurd. It feels absurd. And I know I’m being unkind to myself. But I don’t feel able to muster any kindness to myself right now.
Right now, my MO is just to get by. Basic human instincts. Survive.
Survive.
I hate that word.
Because I want to live. With depression, I just keep forgetting how.
How do you manage?
Gentle hugs x
RIP my beautiful, kind hearted aunty. Until we meet again.
Hunny. I’m so sorry for your loss, and to here about what you’re going through. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do. And don’t struggle on. It’s not good. xoxo
Thanks so much Christina, appreciate it xx