The knock at the door

Depression came knocking at my door this morning. I should have known it was looming outside, waiting, stalking me, with my introspective post yesterday. I barred the door and nailed all the windows shut, trying my best to seal all airways so it doesn’t seep in.

I have become excellent at playing “happy” and “content”. But my inside goes through torture. It’s as if I have been whipped with barbed wire. The pain, the sadness, it is just so unbearable.

There is a tiny light in my head, one that keeps me going, one that helps me play the roles of “happy” and “content”. Sometimes it is just a glow, because it is just as exhausted as I am. Sometimes it is as bright as a thousand burning suns, with motivation to help me get through the pain and misery. It hasn’t gone out completely, yet. It’s my own personal cheerleader, rooting me on. Letting me know that it is there at the end of the tunnel, I just have to move a few more steps.

Today, I can barely see the light. It’s there, but I have to strain to see through the muck and mire. Depression exhaled a large breath that covered me in a sticky, heavy, substance. I’m not sure how it happened, because as I stated, I barred and nailed everything shut. Funny how it can still reach it’s tentacles in and touch me.

Thoughts I had with my coffee “Maybe I need an increase in meds”. “Maybe a hospital stay is in order”. “Maybe I need a different med”. “Therapy…. I need therapy. After all, talk therapy goes hand in hand with meds for a proper plan of combating this disease”. “Maybe going back to bed will make me feel refreshed. Maybe I need a do-over.”

So, here I sit with my coffee, my words, and my thoughts, plotting my attack.


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