Depression is something that struck me about 4 years ago and lasted for about 2 years. Though I don’t suffer with depression I still suffer with anxiety. Both of course come hand in hand. I’d never had anxiety before depression and depression wouldn’t have lasted as long as it did if it wasn’t for anxiety. Though my anxiety has stuck around depression managed to break away from the relationship and move one.
I guess some day’s depressions cares for anxiety and pops over to say hi, check up on how we’re getting on without it. But I can proudly say I fought depression off 2 years ago.
Though I still go to bed with my anxiety I want to talk about my nights with depression.
Depression in itself, something that can hit the most successful of us all, the most beautiful of us all and behind every smile there is or was some pain hidden by a lie. Happiness. I think we all go through some sort of depression in our lives but when, how or why is dependent on who you are. For some it lasts but others I guess their third eye is too strong for that kind of darkness to take over.
I had to let it spread like a virus over my body for 2 long years, 1 year suffering in silence not even admitting to myself I could possibly be with the black dog. For me when it happened, how and why is a whole other blog so I guess another day we can get to that.
What I’m going to talk about is probably my least favourite part about it. Sleeping with my depression.
Night times were the worst parts of it all. I knew my present day was over, a day where nothing changed, no miracle had happened to get me out of my darkness. I’d accomplished exactly the same as I had done the day before and the day before that and so on. A repeated dark nightmare unescapable. I went to bed knowing tomorrow would be no different. I’d wake up at early hours and lay staring at the ceiling. Some mornings my mind would be messy, too much for me to handle. Other mornings, my mind would be numb, a whole load of nothingness. Empty mind reflecting my empty soul.
I went to bed with depression letting it tell me tomorrow will be a bad day. That I would still wake unhappy and in a deep hole. That there would be no telling myself when I looked in the mirror “today will be a good day”. For 2 years I let depression win. I let depression sleep with me. An abusive, controlling relationship I couldn’t walk away from.
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