I feel like a prisoner. Like I am in a jail and surrounded
by criminals. Rapist. Murderers. Serial Killers. Arsonist. Instead of actual
inmates, it's my thoughts and feelings. I am not suggesting my thoughts are
about rape or murder. I just feel like I am a prisoner with my horrible
thoughts and feelings. The warden does not care. The guards do not care. No one
cares. Some days I am allowed to walk around the yard. Some days I get
visitors. People indicate prison can be hell. Well, my prison is hell. It hurts
me. I get headaches. Nothing matters. I am scared of my prison. I think I want
to break out, but I don't know how.
The 'inmates', they are not friendly. Not one bit. They
torment me. I can hear them down the hall in the cells. Frightening voices.
Taunting me. The lights are out. It's dark. The guards are all gone home. The
only thing keeping me from the others are the bars. But they are not real. I
can see them. But they don't serve their purpose. It doesn't keep me safe.
Maybe if I cannot free myself from this prison, I can break all of them out? So
I would be the only inhabitant. Only then, maybe I will be free. Maybe not. I
am not sure. I am not too sure about anything anymore.
Things were going so well, weren't they? I had a pretty good
week, outside of a few speed bumps. I overcame them. I felt support from
others. I was kind to people. But, now, today, I feel like it is like one of my
original days in the hospital. I missed our game in Bridgewater. I had all
intentions of going and was excited to go- yesterday. I was getting ready to go
today. Stopped for a brief moment, and then out of nowhere I broke down. I
don't know why. I have no answer.
I feel worthless. No good. Nothing positive. I couldn't
bring myself around 20 young men. Not on this day. Not the way I am. It's not
their fault. I feel like I have let them down. I felt like that for awhile. I
am letting everyone down.
It is hard for me to understand this illness. It is playing
sick tricks on me. Most of the week was good. Today, it's like one step forward
and fifty back. If I cannot clarify what is happening to myself, how can others
begin to understand? I can't explain it. I am taking my medication. Apparently
doing the necessary things like eating better and exercise. I met with my
psychologist this past week. that also went well. It is unexplainable. A
real-life mystery.
I can't pinpoint a trigger. I opened my eyes this morning
and got ready. Then, out of nowhere, a kick in the guts. A blow to my stomach.
A sucker punch to my face. A figurative beat down. I don't believe in excuses
anymore. There is just truth. Reason. Where is the truth and reason with this
Depression?
To understand the unknown, maybe I need to first re-evaluate
the facts of my illness. Mostly, everything is as advertised. How the meds
work. How the exercise makes me feel. How I am working on my relationships. My
journal entries. What I cannot get is a firm grasp of these 'surprise attacks'.
Hence the word surprise. And attacks.
I cannot prepare for them. I cannot tell when they may come
about. There are no warning signs. Nothing to give me a hint. It comes out of
the shadows unannounced. Inviting itself to ruin my day. I cannot escape this
jail, this prison. It's very depressing. "Well, no shit T.J.. It's
Depression."
I keep saying people fear the unknown. This is my fear. My
unknown. The uncertainty of these bad days. How bad can they get? I feel like a
burden to people. It is a difficult feeling. I cannot understand this at all.
A cyclone of thoughts. Twisting around and around. With no orchestrating
path. No pre-determined purpose. No sense of direction. No pattern. Swallowing
up anything good in its path. Destroying everything along its route. A tornado,
out of control, with no indication of when it may subside. I know it must stop
at some point, but how much damage will be done? When natural disasters occur,
the only number society cares about is loss of life. I wonder how many victims
there are of Depression?
I don't want to see anyone. I don't want to talk to anyone.
I don't want to associate with anyone. I want to be a ghost. Non-existing.
Sometimes I feel like a ghost, an aspiration. Floating through life. Seeing
life pass me by. Feeling cold. Unconscious to anything real. I feel as if there
are weights tied to my ankles and the surface of the water is only an inch
away. The weights keep me from reaching my next breath. Something keeps pulling
me down. Preventing me from living. It's days like today that makes me wonder
if I am better off 'gone'.
It's hard to think positive. My thoughts and feelings block
the positivity. Blocking anything that is good. Hurting me in ways that words
cannot explain.
I thought this past Wednesday was bad. Today takes the cake.
A new low. Terrible way to start the week. Is tomorrow going to be better? I do
not know. And what sucks is I have to get up and find out. Do I need to go back
to the hospital? Do I need to increase or change my medication? Or do I just
'deal' with these days? My dealing or coping is wearing out. It's tired. I am
fighting to stay alive. I won't lie. Thoughts of not being alive came across my
mind, not once or twice, but consistently today. I am not acting upon those
thoughts, but they are present. It's tough. It really is. Yesterday may have
been the best day in a long time for me. Then it is followed by the worst day
since I have been out of the hospital. It was so bad I didn't want to talk to
anyone at all.
What to do next? My thoughts and feelings are entangled in
barb wire. Cutting away at my mind, my insides. I want to scream, but they
cannot escape my body. Pain is
inflicting my soul. My well-being. Misery. I cannot control this yet. That
frustrates me. I cannot tame this beast. The demons are caged up in me and the
key to the door has been thrown away. There is only one way to set those demons
free. And it is the easiest thing to do at this point. To end the pain. The
misery. I could give in. Silence would never sound so sweet. But I cannot give
up that easily, can I? I mean, it is an option. But in life, the easiest
options are a virtue of losers, the unsuccessful. Like a light switch, I can
make it all go away. Make it quiet. Make it dark. No more taunting. No more
tormenting. No more teasing. No more of anything.
Even the music is not helping tonight. The writing helps a
little. It is coming out of me today and tonight. Feelings turned into words.
Thoughts into ink on this page. I guess they are escaping my mind for the time
being. But more keep replenishing my mind. It's terrifying. Relentless. This
could be bad.
It's almost 2 am. Sleep will be limited tonight. I think I
am writing so much because I have a lot to discuss. I don't want to call anyone
at 2 am. What will anyone say that will quiet the monsters inside of my head?
There is nothing to say. These monsters do not listen. You think you have them
under control, then they come back to life on their own. This is no way to
live.
I think I put my earphones in and blast the music to hopefully
dull the other noises in my head. It's loud in there. All day. Since 7 am.
These voices, they won't stop. The thoughts keep cycling around. Not even a
whisper today. It's all loud. Pretty persuasive, too.
This is why people are scare to talk about Mental Health; I
just looked at my drawer in the kitchen. I know there are knives it there.
Here's the scary part. Ready for it? The thoughts, rather voices in my head
calmly say, "What if I just cut myself a little?" That leads to a
follow-up question. "How much blood will there be?" I know there will
be no pain. That doesn't scare me. That's a 'crazy' thought? Maybe. Rather, it
is a thought of a person that is suffering severely from Depression. It's a
real illness. Tonight, it is verifying itself.
I am going to continue to write. Maybe I have a glimmer of
hope I may talk myself out of it. Where did I go wrong? I am literally talking,
or trying to talk myself out of committing suicide. What will help?
Nash. You, my boy. You're going to save your daddy tonight.
You're not here with me, but you're going to help me through this tonight. What are
you now? Three, almost four. What do you want to do buddy? You're the light. I
close my eyes. What do I see? I see a little version of me. But, Nash, you're
stronger than your old man. There is something special about you, my boy. Every
time you walk into a room, you light it up. You really do. You make people
smile. That's a gift you were born with. I have never saw you not make someone
smile. Daddy can only imagine it right now or look at pictures. My eyes are
full of tears as I write this. As much joy you give me son, it hurts so much. I
can't even get out of my bed, slowly open up your bedroom door and check to see
if you are OK. I feel like I am losing you. I am not there for you Nash. I am
so sorry buddy. You're my best friend in the world. I am suppose to protect
you. Keep you safe. Fight for you. I am letting you down. I can handle the pain
of the demons inside from my illness. That pain I can endure. This pain of not
seeing you every day is hurting daddy more than the Depression. The only bit of
future I can imagine right now is you growing up without your daddy. I am so sorry
Nash. I miss you so much. I find it hard to call you because I don't want the
conversation to end. I am trying buddy. I am. I am trying to stay strong for
you, but it is a real struggle. I feel like I am not going to see you grow up.
It hurts me so much. Nash, I don't know what is going to happen, but you need
to know that you are my greatest accomplishment. Of everything in this world,
it is you that I am most proud of. I love you the most.
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