Do you know someone who is suffering from it? Are you suffering? I never had until 5 years ago when I began a season of clinical depression that has left me reeling. It is finally lifting and I wish I could tell you why. It has left as mysteriously as it arrived. It is hard to describe but I recently found this journal entry. May it grant you a glimpse into what this feels like. Frankly, I don’t recall writing it. But I am not surprised by that. It was written during a time when I was literally floating above my life. If you are a friend of mine, please don’t feel bad for not knowing how badly I was doing. I never would have shared these dark thoughts. You see, depression is a petri dish for isolation. Cloaked in shame, I turned inward until I could “figure things out” because in the past, I had always been able to solve any problem I put my mind to. But not this one. And therein was the deepest fear of all – that my beautiful mind was failing me. Leaving me.
Summer, 2018
So, I find myself depressed at 51. Still depressed. First born off at college, husband is over me and this, unwashed, sleeping in the basement with our dogs and self-employed because I can’t seem to work for anyone else. Oh. And on probation for a DUI. See, I tried briefly in 2017 to escape the cesspool that was my mind by taking Xanax. It worked great until I tried to drive. And then it didn’t. And then I thought “let’s see what is going on without the pills. Let’s unpack this thing and check it out – so we can get to the bottom of it and move on.” So, the warm Xanax blanket lifted. But what I have found is worse than death. What I have found is myself – and nowhere to hide. No impressive job, no decorating project, no new outfit or haircut. The jig is up, and I can no longer hide the truth from myself. Because now I can see it in the eyes of everyone I care about. They know too. And that is the worst part. The blackness is unbearable. It is a hopeless void with pockets of violent terror that fill me with such dread my teeth chatter. My brain goes toward a nightmare – a frightening scenario of what my future might hold. Or it veers back – to a sea of regret for bad decisions and repercussions that leave me speechless with shame. I can hear the words, see the faces of the people I have disappointed. The tears I have caused. The damage inflicted but that is still germinating even now – to sprout fresh at some point in the hellish future -to claim the spirits of my children. My precious children, whose psyches I have damaged with my life. Memories wash over me in the dark of night like a kick in the gut. I am shaken out of a deep sleep by a moment in time, perspiring profusely and reliving it as if it were yesterday. But it has been 10 years, or 8, or 3? Give me a year and I will tell you the manner in which I fucked it up in a way that will revisit me and mine for years to come. This is truly worse than death – the thought that I will be living out the remainder of my days in this manner. To my mind – it seemed that I bring collateral damage to every situation I encountered. That every single person I have ever crossed paths with has been left diminished in some way for having known me. Reduced. Injured. I cannot think of one situation that would be improved by my taking part in it. To the contrary. It would be better off if I never touched it with my presence. The world would be a better place if I were not in it.
So, there it is. My mind goes there.
And yet it cannot be. Because I have children, and this would devastate them – because they are too young and too blinded by the fact that I am their mother to see the vileness of me. The true blackness that is my soul. This is what I feel in these days – as I stare at the ceiling and hear them all – living like normal people upstairs while I hide down here below. They know I am here – yet they have grown weary of me. I have as well. Dear God, why did I have these children? It would be so easy if I did not. There would not even be a question as to what I should do. I feel trapped as if being buried alive – and I am frightened that I will lose my mind to such a degree that I will have to be put away. The panic makes my heart race and the bible verses that I chant to calm myself sound like the rantings of a lunatic. A freaking crazy ass woman who has lost her mind. I used to be such an elegant person. I had a presence. Now I am unkempt. My only saving grace is that depression makes me unable to eat, not the other way around. At least by society’s standards my body looks great. But I know it could drop dead of a stroke at any minute, having lost 10 pounds and abused my blood vessels with high blood pressure and lack of sleep. The sleeplessness is making me psychotic. I know my thoughts are paranoid and irrational, but no amount of meditation or prayer will bring relief. I am too far from shore with no land in sight from any direction. I feel utterly snuffed out. I leave the radio off. Music used to move me to tears so not hearing it is preferable to the feeling of nothingness that it brings. Am I leaving sanity and headed toward the abyss? Or was the life I was leading the insanity that I have finally broken from and am drifting toward truth? Is this a breakdown, or a break through? Was I healthy then and have lost it now? Or is it the other way around? I don’t know. But there is nothing I can do. So, I wait and live the best I can. Some days I manage to shower by 2 pm. Most days I do nothing – I sleep and watch movies. But I don’t recall seeing them. I do manage to complete client projects and launched 2 websites last month– yet I don’t recall doing the work. Even now as I visit those sites, they are new to me. Occasionally something gets through. A good quote, a verse, a word. Something that is a spark and stirs my soul. It’s the stirring that encourages. I see color for a minute. It means I am still in there and still have a spirit that can be stirred. Because it is the not caring that frightens me most. The lack of interest in anything that has to do with life. Truly that is a living death.
That was then. This is now.
I feel nothing like that now and am jolted by the words that once seemed so real to me. How could I have believed such lies? Lies from the very pit of hell. And yet I did. It was SO REAL at the time. I shudder to think others might be feeling this way. If you are reading this and it resonates, I urge you to talk to someone. Anyone. And don’t feel discouraged if those closest to you are not the best choice to go to at this point. I lost a college friend of mine to suicide just over a year ago. Oh how I wished we could have shared out hearts with each other. Perhaps it would have made a difference.
Please know that these feelings WILL PASS. You are not a mistake. You are not a detriment to this world. You are a precious child of God with a legacy to share. Just hold on. One more day. I promise it will get better. Please believe me.
“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.”-Psalm 30:5
Mari I would never know you have felt or ever will feel that way again. It takes a deep thinking person to feel the way you did. Simple mindedness could never identify those feelings or articulate them. It sounds like what I have heard from my son…it hurts me deeply for him and this had hurt me for you. I love you! And we have fun working together. I always look forward to your creativity and fashion sense
Love Kim
You are my favorite. I love you Mari Hammond!
You Are. One. Amazing Work. Of. Beauty. And. Grace. How proud if you must be our God. Thank you for sharing. Brilliant writing. Soul piercing. Bless you. 💞
This resonated with me in a huge way. I’ve been diagnosed bi-polar for years. I do have highs in the form of energy and positivity, compassion and patience. My lows are very much like what you wrote in the summer of ’18 only with a healthy dose of anger. Thank you for sharing this. It’s a stark reminder how our own minds can lie to us. It was God’s hand who put this in front of me tonight. God bless.
I loved your blog.Really looking forward to read more. Will read on…