I keep crying. I can’t find the root of it.
Is it leftover emotions from the weekend with the musician? Is it the fact that my half sister contacted me asking about our biological father whom I haven’t spoken to in years? The potential mistake I made in sleeping with the other guy in order to run away from the feeling of longing? The fact that I’ve been taking adderall every other day? The stress that I have no upcoming work? Simply PMS? All of it?
Oftentimes I wonder if other people look into their emotions as much as I do. I’ve always felt a need to analyze them and figure out where they’re coming from – and why. Sometimes its maddening. Sometimes, like now – when I have no idea. and it truly could be early PMS (I’ve cried because I dropped cereal while PMSing so…gauging the reality of my emotions during these periods of time is difficult). But its always terrifying when I start to feel this way because I find myself asking “Is my depression coming back?”
I’ve struggled with depression since I was about 13. Not only do I have a genetic predisposition from both sides of my family I also had survived a lot of abuse by the time I hit 13. I grew accustomed to the cycle and learned to cope, at first in unhealthy ways. Then as I entered my 20s I coped more with art, travel, exercise. But sometimes there was nothing to do.
Sometimes I just lay in bed crying for days at a time.
Its difficult to admit because only those closest to me know how much I struggle. To everyone else I’m always put together, smiling, charming. Usually I don’t want to let my loved ones know. I feel like a burden – a bummer. And especially after my double depression in 2015 I know showing an ounce of depression coming back would have most of them jump to their feet worrying I’d off myself.
I don’t really have suicidal ideations anymore. Which is a big deal for me. from 13-20 then at again when A died I frequently thought about it. And attempted a couple times. I was constantly tired. It was all I could say to describe how I felt. Tired of living, tired of fighting, tired of trying to cope, tired of the abuse, tired of feeling trapped, tired of my own mind sabotaging itself. Tired.
This isn’t that anymore now my depression has changed into some strange form of apathy toward life. When it creeps up I have to fight like hell to get myself out of the house and do something, anything, that might snap me back to “me”.
But I always worry what if it doesn’t work? It doesn’t always work. What if this time I fall again. What if this is the time I don’t make it out.
And so sitting with a feeling of sadness and crying for days for no reason -terrifies me. Its a good sign that I am terrified, it means I’m still me and I can try to pull myself out of it. Once I stop being scared is when the real trouble hits.
Some people have bad days and can let themselves feel all these emotions then know it’ll pass. I have these bad days and spend half the time wondering if this is it. I’ve lost several people to depression and its a lifelong battle more often than not. Loved ones get used to it and say its just a phase and you’ll get out of it in time like you always have! But thats not true, not everyone does. I know that feeling. Standing on the ledge feeling nothing but pain, feeling like a burden, a failure, an open wound thinking “itll stop if I jump” and meaning it. Having to find yourself there time and time again is hard. And not everyone makes it out.
I can’t do anything but ask myself is it PMS? Do I just need to cry and lay in bed for a day or two? Or is my gloomy best friend back to pull me under?
I breathe in and get ready to fill up my schedule as much as I possibly can with work, research, friends, projects, travel – while thats the last thing I want to do. What I want to do is lay and not move, but thats giving it in, making it easy for depression to swaddle me in a blanket of darkness. The least I can do is keep busy and try to outrun it. Sometimes it works.
Maybe I’ll be back in two days writing about how I feel completely fine and it was a false alarm I just needed some ice cream and cuddles from my dog. Which would be great! I’ll feel dramatic and ashamed of this post, but I’ll leave it up. Its part of my reality. Not all of me is beautiful.