And You're Back......Again

1:22 a.m. July 27, 2016

I want to close my eyes. But I can’t. That’s where the darkness lies. When I shut them, the thoughts are horrifying. I see more with them closed than I do when they are opened. Troubling thought. The very things that give me sight sees more when they are not open to the light of the world. I close them once. I see me killing myself and my son growing up without me. I open them to know I am momentarily safe. I close them again. I see no hope of anything good happening in my life.

I took my prescribed sleeping pill an hour ago. Depression sometimes over powers them. Doctor has told me before that my mind and body can be quite resistant to some drugs. It takes a lot to take an effect on me. Even when they put me out for my ECT’s. It takes more than the average person to put me out. I could take more sleeping pills. I am guessing that is not a smart move. Overdosing is not what I want to do, but it is an option tonight.

Every time I close my eyes, a new scene is created. I am just the audience. I am the only soul in attendance for this horror show. I see it all play out. The actors are the demons and monsters within. Each time the curtain goes up, there is a different show. Once scene, I was living on the streets. 

People walk pass me as if I am thrash and non-existent. Maybe deep down that is what I want; to not exist anymore. This scene also makes me think maybe life would be better off like that for me. Sad picture, truly.

I hate no one. What I have trouble with on nights like this is, loving myself. Trying to find any ounce of good within me. I don’t like me from time to time. I talk to myself. I try to talk myself out of it. It is hard. There is moderate confusion for me. Inner conversation with the monsters. They are never clear. No clarity whatsoever. It’s as if it is a coded message and I don’t have the key to solve it. It tells me all will be good one moment. Then the next couple of hours seem like hell. Sorry, is hell.

I try to describe it using words on this page. Transforming the depressive thoughts and feelings into words is a true challenge. Hope? There is none. Empty? Not sure if that is a feeling or a thought, but whatever it is, it is in me. Well, that’s not entirely true. There are demons and monsters inside. They occupy the emptiness. I am non-caring. I am not sure what word defines not caring, but that’s what I am experiencing right now. Someone could come beat the living hell out of me right now and I wouldn’t care. Probably beg them to put me out of my misery. Because that is what it is; misery. I don’t care if anything good happens to me and I don’t care if anything bad happens to me. None of it fucking matters.

I know it is a bad night when the sleeping pills are not working. More sleepless nights. It’s during these battle nights that I struggle to have and keep mindfulness thoughts. My mind races. That’s why I don’t want to close my eyes. There is too much negative creativity for me to deal with tonight. Do I just stay up until daybreak? Maybe the thoughts will subside.

I ask myself sometimes; “Why do I even write?” It’s part of my therapy. The thoughts and feelings just rattle around inside my body. Bouncing off my bones, muscles, and organs. Being recycled throughout. Over and over. So, I write, hopefully get them out of me.

I am consumed with the thought of death. It’s not an obsession, but I am definitely fascinated with it. The mind of someone with Major Depression, speaking from experience, is a complete cluster-fuck. Experts say that the average person has anywhere between 50,000-70,000 thoughts a day. That’s a typical hour for me in my solitude. Too many thoughts to write out. Almost too many thoughts to survive.

Thursday, July 28, 2016

More of the same today, except less thought of death.  More thoughts of hopelessness and emptiness. 

My mother suggested a counselor. I said no. I have been through this before. This feeling is impossible to fix by anyone on this planet. No doctor, pill, counselor, friend, or family member can do or say anything to ease this misery. I don’t have thoughts of suicide, rather, feeling of sadness. I am very sad. And it hurts.

I grab my head. Hold it like I can pry the thoughts from my brain. I can’t. They are in there. I don’t want to talk to anyone except one person. I am not being rude, I am depressed. I don’t want to speak to anyone. Not because I am ungrateful or stupid, because there is absolutely nothing anyone can do for me when I feel like this.

When I think about suicide, people can talk me out of it. Remind me that I have reasons to live. They are right and most times it helps me. This shitty feeling is the wickedest sadness possible and it was not triggered by anything- it just came over me. It is a helpless feeling. Sad, not like losing someone to death or a breakup. Sad like nothing matters. There are no tears. Silent agony. Anguish. I can’t control this emotion of dejection.

I try to offer help or support to others that suffer from Depression. I tell them I am available to talk, and I am. But now, for the first time, I realize, if they are feeling what I am right now, they don’t want to talk. I drove around tonight, thinking to myself, “What the fuck is wrong with me? Get it together T.J.” It’s just not that simple. Physical pain is nothing compared to the pain I feel right now. I can’t even describe it. Silly thought to most. Those who suffer with Depression know exactly what I am talking about. I try to think of positive things. They get blocked. I don’t know why.

Then your day continues to be the longest day ever. You thoughts are tormenting. Your feelings are all over the place. You are almost certain nothing can help put a smile on your face. Until you hear that one person who makes it all seem to go away. Even if it is for a few short minutes. I am so grateful to for those few minutes because during that time, it made me forget the pain. The conversation didn’t last long, but it made a difference in my mood. Just like that. That’s the power some people have. During our quick conversation, nothing else in the world existed. Just us. It is hard to explain why. I am not even going to begin to explain it. It’s just one of those things that can’t be explained by words. It feels so right. You feel safe and connected. Is it the definition of love? I have no idea, but some people are special.

What a day. The emotions are on a roller coaster. Down and down and down and now, up. That’s why I have faith in people. Special people. People that make you feel better. People that take away the pain. People that understand you to a certain degree. People who are unconditionally there for you. People who make you smile. Those are the special people. Wow! I cannot believe the smile on my face right now. Minutes ago I was writing that nobody can help me in this mood except that one person. You are proof that my theory is accurate. 

It's people like you that are a constant reminder to find that strength within. You help give me that strength. The words are forever tattooed on me. 'Hope' and 'Strength'. You give me both. The third word is 'Inspiration'. Along with my son, you inspire me. 

I used to believe happiness is a choice. That you and only you can decide to be happy. I am wrong. Other people can make you happy. Depression prevented me from knowing what happiness is.

These past few days have been torture for me. I somehow endured them. Last night I didn't fall asleep until 4:00 a.m. That's with a sleeping pill. Sometimes I amaze myself. "How the fuck am I still here?" I was reading something today, a story actually. There was a description of how someone killed themselves. I thought to myself, "T.J., you can definitely do that." I erased the thought immediately. I guess I am getting better at the suicide thoughts. I fucking hope so.

You make me happy. 

Thank you.

"Happiness is like a kiss. You must share it to enjoy it."
                                                         
                                        -Bernard Meltzer

Yours Truly, 

T.J. Smith