Today I feel like I can’t take it anymore. Depression is hitting hard, anxiety and panic are pretty quiet. I never thought I would say it, but I miss anxiety and panic now. At least they made me feel alive. I still saw a light at the end of the tunnel. I felt that even when I couldn’t fight anymore, my body was reacting for me. With depression, it’s not like that. At all.
I just woke up like this. I woke up with some kind of melancholy filling my chest. When describing the symptoms of mental illness, we always use the same words that we use for emotions, but that’s not how it is. Mental illnesses are not emotions. That’s why I often say “kind of…”
I know I’m blessed with many good things in my life, but right now I can only wish I could be born again into someone else’s life. This one is just too hard for me. I have this constant feeling that my life will never be happy because it will always be darkened by mental illness, so why live? Who would want a life like this? It just doesn’t make any sense.
I remember I used to love life so much – sometimes I probably still do. And yet I can’t feel that now. I just feel nothing, except for fear, when I can. Reaching for the phone and asking for help seem like the hardest thing to do. I’m at the bottom of a pit, and it feels like there is no way of coming up again.
I feel like a burden when I tell people that I’m not feeling good and I need help, or even just company. I’m tired and bored of hearing myself say “I feel depressed.” I think people are not even taking me seriously anymore, because I say it too often. The problem is, I’m saying it often because I’m feeling it often. I’m drowning, can’t the lifeguard see it? I’m drowning.