Darkness

There is only one thing going on in my mind right now; only one phrase. There is so much darkness. Over and over. That's all I hear in my mind. Such surprise at the knowledge that this world is full of light and beautiful things, but that I feel none of it. None of it penetrates. I'm surprised at the depth and breadth of the emptiness. There is so much darkness, and I'm alone.

No one can tell me what is wrong with me. I've had so many vials of blood drawn. Is it adrenal fatigue? Is it hypothyroidism? Is it hormonal? Is it a serotonin deficiency? No one knows. And what is so truly terrifying is that if no one knows, no one knows how to make it go away. We don't know how to treat it.

The only thing we really can do is throw an SSRI my way. One of the main side effects of an Selective Serotonin Reputake Inhibitor is weight gain. As you all know, I'm a few years out of recovering from an eating disorder. I'm not yet far enough away from that raging hatred of self and body to swallow a pill that will more than likely make me gain weight. I can't even think of it. It is still a battle to accept myself as I am now, let alone with extra weight. I can't do it. But it's the only answer anyone can come up with. It's all I have.

It's a Catch 22. There is no way to win the game. I can't cut, I'm embarrassed enough of the scars that already pepper my arm. The only thing that I can do is stagger forward, try to keep my head above water...somehow go to class, somehow take the tests, somehow feed myself, somehow keep myself clean, somehow keep all of my friends from noticing what is happening to me. It takes all the energy that I've got just to text someone back with a smiley face so that they won't find out that I feel like I'm rotting away. No way out, stagnant, as good as dead. Falling, tripping, stumbling through a life that is glorious and heart wrenching in it's beauty, being unable to touch it.

How could someone so young be so sick? What is wrong with my body? It's so easy for the people around me to get up, to go to school, to take a shower, to study, to laugh and love and be the way they were born to be. Depression doesn't stay with me all the time, it does go away. And so I sit and burn in Hell while I wait for it to leave me, and eventually I am alright again. It could be weeks, months, or years until it comes back, but it always does...like the monster under my bed. Always I'm waiting. Is this what my life will always consist of? Will I be able to have a family, or will this monster come and cripple me, leaving me a worthless mother and wife?

All I know is that I deserve your respect. Every hour is a fight for me. Every morning when you're taking a shower and wondering what the day will bring, I'm talking myself into putting my feet on the ground. Every day is a heroic effort. Every day I have to coax myself into waking up, into socializing and grooming myself and keeping myself fed. There is a reason why my crippling depression comes as a surprise to most people. Because I'm damn good at forcing myself to show up when all I want to do is fade away. All I want is an answer. All I want is for someone to know why this is happening to me. I want someone to know how to make it stop. But nobody seems to know.