Tag Archives: Depression

Lanes

Time to take another break from fiction for today. On my way home from work, I saw a sign that read, “If everything is coming your way, you’re probably in the wrong lane.” The more I thought about it, the more  I realized the depth behind it, as it’s a rather multi-faceted saying. It can apply to both the good and the bad in life.

When most people read or hear the above quote, they most likely think it’s referring to the good things of life. Now, don’t get me wrong. Blessings are wonderful things. And I don’t think many of us would still be here if our lives were only negative, all the time. Positives, I do believe, are a must. But what happens when only positive things come our way?

There’s that saying of “too much of a good thing can be bad.” I believe it. Because, if there’s only good, what do we learn? Most life lessons come from experiencing the bad circumstances. In my opinion, how we face and overcome the negative helps shape who we are and will ultimately become. We learn nothing when only good happens to us.

Another bad thing to only receiving the positive side of life is the false sense of security that comes with it. Unfortunately, we are creatures of habit. We fall into routines. Again, blessings are not bad things, but if we never face trials, we never expect them. If I only have good things come my way, why would I think that anything bad could happen to me? Which also leads us to viewing the world through rose-tinted glasses, and we forget that evil exists.

But then comes the flip side of the above quote. The bad things in life. While the ideal world is a perfect world, I think bad things are a necessary evil at this point. We do reap what we sow. And more often than not, we need that harvest to keep ourselves in check. So what does happen when only negative things come our way?

Well, I think this one is a bit more self-explanatory than the positive side. For the most part, I think the negative experiences are crucial teaching tools. Yet, we’ll never remember what we learn if we’re not given time to rest and reflect. Constantly being berated by life wears us out more than anything. If we lose the mental capacity to live, much less think over situations, we still aren’t going to learn anything.

Another negative to the the negative–it often leads to depression. Whether or not people want to admit it. If there’s no light at the end of the tunnel, why would we continue? Again, creatures of habit. We get stuck. Lost in ruts. To the point where it’s not worth even looking for a way out. It is extremely taxing on the psyche. If I’m only receiving negatives, I’m not going to expect positives, and I’m going to stay where I am. We give up.

Regardless of how we view the above quote, I think it comes down to a few questions. What are we doing that’s keeping us in one lane? Or, what choices are we making that’s keeping us in one lane? What are we choosing that’s keeping us strictly in the positive lane? What are we choosing that’s keeping us strictly in the negative lane? Everything comes down to a choice.

And it’s okay. It’s okay to experience the negative, even if all you’ve known is positive. It’s okay to experience the positive, even if all you’ve known is negative. Sadly, our world is not perfect. But balance can be achieved. Good and bad go hand-in-hand. We just have to choose to find the balance, to stay in the middle of the two lanes.

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Human Interactions

Silence
Because nobody wants to hear words
Lies
Because nobody wants to accept truth
Masks
Because nobody wants to know realness
Cheerfulness
Because nobody wants to perceive depression
Strength
Because nobody wants to see weakness
Fine
Because nobody wants to attend pain
Pettiness
Because nobody wants to genuinely care
Arrogance
Because nobody wants to admit imperfection
Selfishness
Because nobody wants to observe others
Pedestals
Because nobody wants to seem lower
Distance
Because nobody wants to get close
Success
Because nobody wants to praise failure
Wealth
Because nobody wants to acknowledge poverty
Hatred
Because nobody wants to understand love
Force
Because nobody wants to truly coexist
Life
Because nobody wants to confess death


Forgiveness

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I sat on my bedroom floor, curled up in a corner. Everything falling apart. Tears flooded my face. I was a bad person. I didn’t deserve to be on this Earth anymore. My knuckles turned white around the knife. I would be doing the world a favor if I left. I caused more harm than good by being here. No one would miss me. Everyone would be better off without me.

Throwing my head back into the wall, my chest rose and fell with hard sobs. My body trembled. I looked down at the knife in my hand. It wouldn’t go anywhere. But I needed to go. What purpose did I have on this planet? After all the bad things I’ve done…how could anyone forgive me? Everyone simply acted like they loved me. Nobody needed me. Nobody wanted me.

I didn’t even want myself. I hated me. And if I hated me, certainly everyone else did. I was so pathetic, I couldn’t even make myself bleed. There was no controlling the snot mingling with tears on my face. I was a mess. Had always been a mess. I screwed up everything. Never made anyone happy. Never let myself be happy. All I did was ruin everything. I needed to go.

But I never could go. I watched the knife shake in my hand for an hour. It never went anywhere. It stayed in my sweaty grasp. My depressed sobbing had turned into cries of anger. Why couldn’t I die? Why did I need to live? What purpose did I have other than torturing myself? Could I wish myself away? Could I will myself to death? The knife wasn’t doing me any good. My body went limp from exhaustion. What was I even doing here?

Then I heard something other than the voices in my head. I heard soft crying. I blinked back pooled tears. On the other side of my room was a little girl. Her knees up to her chin, head in her arms. She looked familiar to me. Behind her played blurry, one-sided and biased events. My wall had become a projection screen for her past. Though her past wasn’t quite clear. Sniffing, I rose.

“Don’t you see?” she screamed. “Don’t you see how bad of a person I am?” The events slowly became clearer. “Dont’ you see what I’ve done? I’m a bad person. Nobody loves me. How can anybody love me?”

I swallowed. Beginning to understand. Those events…I remembered them as clear as day. Her past was mine. Everything I had done. Everything that caused me so much anxiety. Everything I couldn’t forgive myself for. All the reasons why I hated myself. My eyes darted over the various incidents. Brimming with tears again until they overflowed. “Can’t you see how bad I am?” she pressed. “I’m a terrible person.”

Dropping down next to her, I held her in my arms. Buried my head in hers. My heart ached for this little girl who carried so much weight. “No…” I barely managed talking through my crying. Squeezed her tighter. “All of those things…just because you did something wrong doesn’t make you a bad person.” I choked. “You’re not evil. You are loved. I love you. And even if nobody else does, I-I…forgive you. I forgive you for the things you’ve done.”

Her head lifted, glistening eyes meeting mine. “Then you have forgiven yourself.” I blinked. “What?” But I studied her. That was why she looked familiar. She was me. The part of my soul I kept buried in guilt and shame. I couldn’t stop crying. It was all sinking in. She smiled. “I am you, and you have forgiven me. You have finally forgiven yourself. You no longer need to carry the hatred for yourself.”

She radiated warmth while I sat in stunned silence. Tears stopped raining down. My heart no longer hurt, and my soul felt lighter. What happened? I looked at the knife on the floor. No longer wishing to take my own life. I blinked again. It had been years of not letting go. And…it was this hard but also this easy all along? She suddenly burst into thousands of glowing particles and absorbed into me. “I forgive you,” she whispered, “I love you. You have forgiven yourself. You have set yourself free.” I whispered back, “I am free.”


Out

Tears flood the floor
Drown me in suffering
Where is the door
I need out
Out of my mind
Blood flows free
Is this even real
I’m on my knees
Begging for a way out
Out from this bind
Sickness takes hold
Darkness covers me
This charade is old
Please let me out
Out of what makes me blind
My demons give chase
Infect my thoughts
Promise death’s embrace
I must find a way out
Out of the evil kind
Another day comes
Everything loops
Beating me as drums
Is there a way out
Out of this grind
Tears flood the floor
Drown me in suffering
Where is the door
I’m desperate for a way out
Out of my twisted mind


A Personal View of Depression

bravery

I’ve been struggling with depression off and on for many years. Even before I wanted to be a writer, writing down my feelings has helped me deal with them. While, now, I’m in more of a “stressed” phase than “depressed” phase, these words needed to be released. Otherwise, my brain would constantly dwell on them. So here they are, in raw passion, unedited and most likely scattered. Maybe, just maybe, if you’re struggling with depression or stress, as well, this can help you find your own words to help with your feelings. It is one of the worst things we can go through alone, and I want to give something that people can relate to at the very least.

 

So far, I have woken up every morning. Many times, I wonder why. Surely my life can’t mean that much; even if eveyone around me tells me they love me. Every morning, I put my feet on the floor. Though I don’t feel anything solid. I feel like I’m forever falling. Forever falling into a bottomless pit of darkness filled with ravenous monsters eager to devour my soul. There are days, hopeful days. A few days where I feel like a warrior clad in impenetrable armor. I fight the darkness the entire day. Even if a part of my brain is scared of the darkness. I don’t know what lies ahead, what challenges I’ll face, or the monsters that will confront me. There is a fear of the unknown.

And that’s all it takes. That simple ounce of fear sends me sliding back toward the monsters. The majority of the time, I’m not as impenetrable as I believed. Stress finds its cracks and seeps under my skin, causing me pain. Then I wonder. What am I doing wrong? Rather, what is wrong with me? Am I the monster? Am I the one who needs to be destroyed? All I do is cause pain to those around me. I take up their time. I can’t bother them with my problems when they have their own. Who wants to listen to me whine? Surely that’s how they view me. As a pathetic baby who can’t handle life.

So I let myself fall. The majority of the time, I willingly walk back into the pit. Even though there’s nothing but darkness and solitude, at least it’s familiar. In a way, the cold is comforting. It’s something I know, something I can always go back to. Yet, my heart knows it’s wrong. Wrong to retreat. Is that what I’m doing? Retreating? So now I’m a coward. Another name to add to my mental insults. No one is more judgmental of me than me. Look at me. I’m not worth anything. Then I’m told I’m worth everything. But how can I believe something like that? I’m too far gone.

The pit seems friendlier than friends and family. Despite the monsters waiting for my soul. Some days, I try for the light. Most days, exhaustion leads me to darkness. And I follow. Why should I fight? I might win a handful of days, but I always end up right back where I started. At the bottom. Surrounded by darkness. Closed in by monsters. Though I wonder if I’m the monster. Or are they the feelings inside me? I care not to know anymore. I’m stuck in the middle of my feelings. And I’m done. Done fighting, done giving up. It’s hard to explain. I’m just done.

I don’t know what to do or where to go. I don’t know what’s right or wrong, don’t know what’s light or darkness. I don’t know if I want life or death, heaven or hell. I just want to be done. Done with the aches and pains. Done with the constant mental distress. Even when I have good days, all I count are the bad days. I want to stop. I don’t know how. I’m in a perpetual cycle of negative feelings. Even when I have everything to be positive about.

All I see, think, hear, feel is negative. I don’t understand how to make a positive. I’m convinced my brain doesn’t work that way. I have to messed up, broken inside. Nobody wants me even though everybody does. How do I know they want me? How do I know they really don’t see me as a burden? Words can mean everything or nothing. How do I know? I don’t. I’m running in circles, repeating myself. I’m a broken record. My body, mind, and soul are tired. I want to be done.


Haiku Compilation III

Face fears without blink
Standing strong against the wind
Never be afraid

Overcome sadness
Push through depression of death
Life’s greatest journey

Ball of lies spinning
Unraveling the secrets
Eager ears listen

Lifehood full of lies
This is how it always ends
Never knowing truth

Walking unknown paths
Defeaning waves of sorrow
Never return home

Heartbeats made of glass
Bone made of metal and ore
Living or dying

Waiting watching kind
Forever waiting watching
Until time has come

The evil temptress
Toying with human purpose
Time a cruel goddess


Normality

Today, I wish to break from fiction and address a very personal reality. Normality. It’s a subject many shy away from yet try so hard to master. Normal. Many cringe at the word.

The American Heritage College Dictionary defines normal as this: “conforming with, ashering to, or constituting a norm, standard, pattern, level, or type.” The Merriam-Webster Dictionary has eight definitons of normal, the most prominent being definition 2a and b: “according with, constituting, or not deviating from a norm, rule, or principle;” “conforming to a type, standard, or regular pattern.” Simplified, society wants us to believe normal is fitting in.

But this poses a question: fitting into what? So let me ask a different question. What even is “normal?” Is there even a “normal?” Truthfully, the answer is no. Why? Because everyone has their own definition of “normal,” their own standard. What’s normal to one person may seem odd to the next. For instance, some may think pink is a normal favorite color. I think pink is hideous, and lime green is a normal favorite color. Others will say lime green is hideous, and black is a normal favorite color. Do you see where I’m going with this?

Frankly, “normal” is an out-of-date cliche people use as an excuse to give up on being themselves. How many of us have done something because we thought it would make us “normal?” Whether it be trying a new style, adopting new phrases, becoming someone different, etc. That brings the next question.

Why are we so afraid to be ourselves?

We need to open our eyes. When we gain the acceptance of “normal,” we lose our identity. The identity that is unique to us and us alone. You can hate me for saying this, but acting “normal” is living a lie. And don’t take me for being self-righteous or condescending. I’m only trying to convey the truth.

I’m not immune. I fall into society’s grasp everyday. I can’t tell you how many times I haven’t done or said something because I didn’t want people to think I’m weird. I want to fit in, too. Yet, I want everyone to know I’m not “normal.” It’s always been a struggle. A fine line to balance. All my life, I’ve tried to go against the flow. Purposefully displayed myself as different. And I’ll be honest. Being defiant against society’s mold has its costs.

I’ve grown up with only two or three close friends. I struggled with depression for more years than I should have. I cried myself to sleep almost every night, wondering what was wrong with me. One night, my dad asked me what was wrong. I confessed that I desired to be normal. He merely looked at me and asked why. I was shocked for several moments, then lamented about my lack of friends. He then asked if I wanted people to like a fake me or a real me.

I ponder his words to this day. And it only brings me back to the beginning. Is there even a “normal?” On deeper reflection, maybe there is. But a different kind of normal. A normal that’s true to ourselves, not the “normal” society holds over our heads. As long as we conform to ourselves and follow our own pattern. Only we can decide who we are going to be. This brings me to my final question. Are you going to follow society’s “normal,” or are you going to set a precedent for your own kind of normal that only you can follow?


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