I battle depression. Real, ache inside, rock myself to sleep, cry until I feel like I'm going to throw up, eat twice what a normal person should just to fill the void, hold onto the sheets so I don't get up and swallow those pills, so I don't get that knife and start cutting myself again, depression. My weapons are Prozac and Wellbutrin. I load them into the barrel and shoot them down my throat each day hoping they continue to work their magic. With that said, I decided to wave a white flag to depression and stop taking my meds just to see if I could survive the war that is life. I lived but did not come out unscathed nor did those around me. I would talk to Andrew and would cry. I would be unable to check the mail, unable to care about taking out the garbage, unable to function. Kris led me around while I lived in a daze.
After two months of skipping those beautiful white pills and blue and orange pills, I went back on them, know that whlie I am an atheist I have met god in those pills. They dictate my life, they decide my destiny. I worship them. They do not make me faslely happy. They do not make me perfect and free from sadness. They allow me to cope, they let out the happiness I honestly have inside me. They silence the voice in my head that says I should die, that tells me to slit my wrists, that shouts at me to open the bottle and cram all its contents down my throat and go to sleep.
I suffer from depression. I cry with anxiety. More than once, Andrew has had to take me home because I can no longer handle being around so many people. More than once, Andrew had held my hand while we wade through people and whispered to me, "You can do it." My parents remind me that places will be busy at certains times and I may want to wait. I've overcome the paralyzing fear I once had for the stairs in the parking ramp with their open rails and windows to the outside. I've overcome being able to pick up job applications. I can walk in the door and ask for one without any anxiety. I can phone a company, order food in a restaurant, I can talk to strangers, I can ask questions, I can ask for help, and I can give myself a break.
1 comment:
I like who you are, depression, anxiety and all. I am working on getting over the anxiety I have with talking on the phone, which is why I am so bad at keeping in touch with people, it stresses me out to call. And I just recently went head on with my anxiety of going to a car wash that has people washing it (have no clue why it scares me, it just does). It's all about baby steps. I am glad you are happy (or happier at least) on the meds, I love the happy girl you are!
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