I've been having a hard time battling my depression lately. It's been rearing and roaring so loudly that I can barely hear anything else. I've tried to smile through it, to tell myself that all of these painful things that I notice are just a phantom of the depression; a trick to lure me into its dark and waiting grip. I've spent months working on myself- inside and out. I've taken on healthier eating habits, and starting paying more attention to getting exercise. Neither are to the extreme. I still indulge in a chocolate chip cookie or two when my daughter makes them, and I spend my evenings and weekends more idle than I probably technically "should", but I am not depriving myself of things I "enjoy". I make myself smile. I focus on keeping the muscles of my face relaxed, especially my jaw. I make sure to keep my shoulders relaxed, too. I smile, and tell myself I deserve to smile.
But as of late, it feels like such a horrible lie. I can't help but notice these painful things, because they are true. They aren't a figment of some delusional mental disease that strives to make me feel bad. They simply are.
There are times that I wish I could just run away. There are days when I wish my children were still little, so I could just pack up a couple of suitcases, hop on a train, and just go somewhere where no one knows me and I don't know anyone. Of course, even if my kids were little, I couldn't go. I couldn't do that to them. It is a nice fantasy, but nothing more. I could never take them away from their father like that. I couldn't let my hang-ups and past (present) failures pull them away from their lives and affect them suchly. It would only cause them to hate me, and move in with their father. Then I would lose them, too, and what would I have left to live for? They are, by all means, my life support. I would be lost without them. Meaningless and purposeless. They are why I live.
But, that life still feels marred. Irreparably damaged. I have these giant parasites living within me, eating away at my insides. They have been feeding for so long that I don't imagine there is much left- only that sustenance that my children being near me gives me. I fear that soon they will begin to worm their way through my skin, letting the world see the gaping sores that fill my being. They will fester and ooze, infected and decaying.
I try to focus on doing things that I enjoy: writing, crafting, baking... But none of these feel fun anymore. I have no desire to do them. No motivation. Instead, I prefer to just hide withing the pages of a book or the pixilated lives of a game; to escape into some other world. I don't want to socialize anymore. I've tried that. I've tried putting myself out there- trying to include myself in the lives of those I love, only to be overlooked; forgotten. Or, even worse, ignored. They don't want me there. I can see that. I can only be shunned for so long before I wisen up and get the point. It makes me feel so stupid. So stupid.
It is hard to feel invisible. To feel forgotten and discarded. An oversight; an afterthought.
I will continue to put on a happy face. To hide the inner demon from showing itself in public. To protect my kids, and to function in society. But I have decided to stop trying to put myself out there. To practically beg for attention and inclusion. I can't live that lie. Trying is only making it more obvious to me, and that is just too hard... the cuts too deep. I won't do that anymore.
0 comments:
Post a Comment