It’s 7 a.m. and I am standing in front of the mirror. The heaviness I’ve been feeling for weeks is now weighing me down. My shoulders slumped, I don’t have the strength to do anything more than lift my head.
I stare at my reflection. The dark circles under my eyes are the battle scars of a silent war; physical manifestations of the unrest in my mind. I am exhausted. I am weak.
I continue to stare, confused. I am unrecognizable, a stranger to myself. I search for the light in my eyes, but cannot see it. A single tear has taken up residence and stopped just shy of falling. It forms a barrier and those that come after it cannot escape. They accumulate to form an unexplained wave within me. In desperation I begin to tread—it is a reflex–but my strength is compromised. I am caught underneath. I cannot breathe. I feel as if I’m drowning and I reach out hoping to be rescued.
Note from the author:
Depression is a bitch without feeling. Her presence creates shame, so we do our best to hide her. Only in acknowledging her existence can we begin to change how she affects us.
April 29, 2013 at 5:03 pm
Thank you for sharing this, Libby.