Depression: It’s a Motherf*cker

Depression: It’s a Motherf*cker

I, like so many others, struggle with depression and it is a Motherfucker! My struggle with depression has intensified over the last few years. I take medication and I see a therapist, but depression still manages to sneak its way in. Most days are fine, very seldom is there ever a “great” day. Bouts of depression are unpredictable, I never know when it’s going to come on or what might trigger it. Depression certainly doesn’t care what’s going on in my life, when it wants in, it comes in and takes over. 

Most of the time, for me, it slowly eases its way in; I can feel its presence in the distance, I can feel it getting closer by the day, hour, minute. I can feel it extinguishing any hope I’m feeling; I try to hold on but the depression is too overwhelming. It has completely wrapped its heavy blanket of despair around me, it pulls me to the ground, and it holds me there until its ready to let me go. Once again, I’ve become its prisoner. 

I sit paralyzed under its heaviness. I cannot move. I cannot function. The numbness is excruciating. There is no escaping this emptiness, which is filled with pain. I am stuck in my own private hell, this is where I will spend the rest of my life. 

I am all alone in my suffering. More blankets of despair are being piled on top of me, smothering me; blankets of insecurity, unworthiness,  blankets of feeling unwanted, unloved, not good enough. This is my reality, this is where I live now, buried underneath all of these blankets, suffocated by despair. 

I fight for air, I beg for release, I plea for mercy. This has to end, I can’t go on living like this, this isn’t living. I’m dying, a slow painful death from the inside out. It feels that way, it must be so. 

And then, in its own time, depression releases me; it sets me free, once again. Hope comes flowing back in, I can breathe. I am alive. 

How long will it allow me to live freely this time? When will it return to smother me with its heaviness again? How can I better prepare myself next time? 

This is my depression. I know that these bouts won’t last forever, and it is that awareness that gets me through. I know in my mind, body, and soul that there are better days to come; that there is another side to this despair. But when depression has a hold of me, and I am pinned underneath those heavy blankets, it feels as though there is no end. 

I will keep fighting to overcome. I will keep fighting to hold onto hope. I will keep fighting for my life. Depression is a motherfucker, but I’m a survivor.

For anyone reading this who knows how real this struggle is, don’t give up the fight. You are worthy. You are wanted. You are loved. You are so much more than enough.

My story doesn’t end here; neither does yours ♥

With Loving-kindness,

Perfectly Imprefect Me 

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