Dealing with Depression

When people tell you that you are going to be fine, or that you will heal from a broken heart; most of them say it with whatever sentiments they have left. The few that have somewhat experienced your pain, try to soothe it with comforting words like, “I know how you feel. You are coming out of this.” Words which are mostly camouflaged to make you feel some kind of relief- however brief- so that you can smile again, or be good company. When my first experience with love –the one most people crave- ended, I spent most of my nights awake, waddling in the corridors of my apartment and crying myself to calm in class. It was horrifying to feel loneliness crawl up my skin and seep in to the crevices of my neck again. I was reminded, minute after minute, of her smile and the sound of her voice bouncing off the walls of my ears. I was forlorn of hope, with a melancholic heart and a mind that was undone each morning of everyday. The first weeks were sordid, gruesome even- my heart ripped into shreds, and my life withering away like the ocean wearing away at shore. 

I loved her too much, but more importantly, according to her, I made her feel like she had run a mile after each conversation. She could not endure as I continually buried her underneath layers of my sadness. If I knew then that I had mood swings, and was suffering through depression, of some kind, she would have, perhaps, loved me better with much kindness. Love is like a seed sown into the ground. Only time can prove its strength. The impact of my encounter with depression broke me every night. I wrestled to find sleep. When I found sleep, it rewarded me with nightmares which left scars in my mind. Broken, lost, falling apart, and wishing to be taken away by death. 

Most of the time, it left me cold and dirty as the snow on the side of a freeway. I had no solid ground. I understood the song," On Christ the solid rock I stand..." I did. But it just did not mean much to me. To me, they were words-mere words which did not save me from that sadness raging through my bone marrow. For the most part, I felt worthless. My mind incessantly accentuated death. It broke me, left me clinging to that one thought. Laying down gazing at the ceiling on many nights wishing it to just give in and crush me to death. Wrestling with hopelessness and helplessness, my existence revolved around the thought that I was unfit to love and undeserving of any kind of love. I fed on negative judgmental assumptions of myself; assumptions which downed my spirit and crushed my hopes of breaking free. The day they finally caught fire, I carried a Bible in my jacket pocket and walked to a rocky beach which was about half a mile from my apartment building and tried to throw myself in the ocean. I whispered my prayers, knowing that they would be my last and less painful moments on earth. I did not know joy. Little drops of sadness had worn away my stones of happiness. No matter how many times I painted joy over the walls of sadness that held me prisoner, the walls were still there to remind me that I was a captive. On my best day, I’d feel the happiness bursting through the cracks, and for brief moment, a smile would brighten up my day. I have loved many times but have been in love once, and it almost took my whole life. 

Dealing with depression for me was the most difficult but bravest decision I ever took. I took hold of my life and begun to steer it towards a bright and early liberation. My first experience with true happiness was realizing that I was loved, irrespective of who I was, or what I looked like, or what I didn't look like. I fed on it; day and night it hovered in the deep dark places of my mind and I enjoyed sleeping to such beautiful thoughts. I began to take time to do the things that made my soul happy and provoked beautiful energy. Sometimes, I‘d take long walks at dawn just to think, and to have conversations with myself whilst watching the sun wake up. I learned the hard way that comparison will be the end of me. Because when you don’t have appreciation for who you are; wanting to be something you saw on television or a magazine is the kind of stuff that will wake you up at 4.30am thinking that you are not good enough. Besides the guy/girl in the magazine doesn't look like the guy/girl in the magazine. And for those of you who have had your hearts broken not too long ago, listen: “Sometimes you end up never speaking to someone who meant the world to you again. And that’s okay. You cope and you survive. Admire the beauty inside and out. Accentuate the positive. I now understand that my mind is a window to my soul. Not only does my soul see things through my mind, but the things my mind picks up eventually imprisons or liberates my soul.