Depression Isn’t Beautiful. 

It’s ugly. So, so ugly. It’s not showering for days and wearing the same clothes that you wore to work to sleep in. It isn’t brushing your teeth for probably a week straight. It’s making plans and then bailing because you smell and you can’t bring yourself to leave the house. It’s sleeping way too much and then not sleeping at all. It’s laying in bed, tired but awake, staring at the wall or ceiling; not really thinking about anything in particular. It’s zoning out and then coming to, only to break down crying because you don’t know what you’ve become. It’s looking in a mirror for the first time in days and not recognizing yourself. 

You want to be so much better, but you don’t know how. You want to go back to yourself with open arms, but you don’t know where she is. You want to have the strength to smile and laugh genuinely, but it seems like there’s nothing to be happy about, no matter how many people love you. 

Depression is not beautiful. It’s ugly, terrifying, and deadly. 

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“Bitterness is a Hot Coal…

That you plan on throwing at somebody, but burn yourself more in the process.”
I always believed that depression was the most blinding state to be in and there was nothing to match; but I’ve recently discovered that bitterness is a close second. I despise being so bitter and cold; I wake up in grumpy mode and I can’t stand it. I’m not sure how to come back from it; I hope I do. All that I can think about is how people have wronged me and how I’ve wronged others. I’m not perfect, but I feel as though I could be better. 

Anxiety

My anxiety is my muscles tensing up. It’s similar to the way your bones and every atom in you shivers when it is cold out and you didn’t think about grabbing a coat. Shivers that run down your spine all the way to your toes and making every muscle in you tense up. It’s forgetting about right now and worrying about the future or the exact opposite. It’s feeling warm but freezing at the same time. 
It’s exhaustion right after and sometimes soreness the next morning. It’s a cycle that can go on for minutes or hours with no end in sight. There is no winding down or slow stop. It will stop and start again like a bad engine trying it’s best. Then it will just stop and you sit there, still, just in case you begin shaking again. Once you realize it has passed, you either eat or sleep. Most of the time, you’re still too nauseous to eat so you’ll drink some water or Gatorade and sleep. 

Aftermath.

A week before I left the hospital, I was terrified. I didn’t know if I was ready to go home; to go back to ‘normal’. I wanted to be sure that I was as close to healthy as I could possibly be because I didn’t want to spiral back down. I knew my home life and I knew that I wouldn’t have somebody with me 24/7 like I did in the cushion of the behavioral center.

The day I was discharged, I said my goodbyes to the friends I had made. We acknowledged my accomplishments and I hugged everybody’s necks with tears in my eyes. I wished everybody the best and I knew they would never leave my heart. My dad came to get me at the end of the day and we drove home. I was so excited to see my cat and to sleep in my own bed. My grandparents were visiting that day to do a low country boil, so it was nice to be able to spend time with them and eat wonderful food my first day back home.

The next day wasn’t so nice and fluffy. It was raw and it was mentally draining. My dad and I got into a small argument and asked me if I needed to go back to the hospital. I was considering it. I didn’t feel like I was ready to come home. I felt that way for about three months until I finally got into a somewhat routine. I would have mental breakdowns, I cried so much, and I was alone a lot of the time. It’s been a struggle adjusting to real life from the hospital and that was always a concern of mine. I didn’t want to be cozy in the hospital then get dumped into the spikes and rocks of real life.

You never know if you’re ready until you get out there and try. It is possible; it’s tough and it’s a battle, but you’re not alone in it. Just be sure you have people around you who care and are able to see your warning signs of emotional relapse.

Today, A Part of My Soul Has Passed Away

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She was almost fourteen years old but didn’t look a day over eight. She still acted like a kitten until her arthritis made it tough for her to jump on and off the bed. She tolerated it and hid it for as long as she could, but it became apparent that she was hurting. Her hips made it hard for her to get in and out of the litter box and to jump into bed with me; but she never missed a chance to cuddle. She was climbing onto the bed towards the end- she would do anything to be with her momma. She would lie next to me or on my stomach and purr the loudest purr you would ever hear. Cocoa was the most loving cat; we would press our foreheads together and sit there until the other pulled away. I think that was one of her ways to tell me she loved me. When I would cry, she was right there by my side and would wait for cuddles. She would get into my lap and rub her head against me, taking the tears with her. I will never have a cat like her.

I miss her so much. It’s been two and a half hours since I had to make the decision. I’ll be moving to a new house soon and I so wish she could be there. She would love the back yard and all of the room inside for her to roll around.

Why Everybody Hates Millennials

The term “millennials” has been all over the internet and the news recently and basically the older ‘generations’ hate us. Why? Apparently it’s because we’re narcissistic, have our noses in our phones all the time, and want world peace and free college. Is that true? Most of it, yes. We are on our phones all the time; but because we’re reading news, articles, conversing with our friends, looking at art; we aren’t just staring at blocks of nothing. We’re educating ourselves or socializing in some fashion.
Do we really want world peace and free college? Hell yeah, we do. Who doesn’t? I’m not even going into that right now.
And last, but not least, the one I’ve been waiting to get into for a while now. Our ‘narcissism’. Oh the beauty of that term and consistently being stuck to every single younger generation until the end of time. But why? Well,  we start out thinking that the world revolves around us and everything that happens is because of us. That’s why young children have such a hard time dealing with their parents’ divorce, thinking it’s their fault and somehow they caused their parents to split up when really they were the reason they stayed together for as long as they did. The thought process of us being so important is not something that goes away immediately. We grow out of it, just like most older people have. It just takes life lessons and, most importantly, time. Soon enough, will be older and complaining about the new generation that has a stupid name that isn’t relevant because ‘generations’ don’t exist. It’s a never ending cycle of complaining.

Love Letter #1

You came to me at a time in my life where I didn’t love myself. I told you at the beginning that I was clinically depressed and high anxiety, but you didn’t bat an eye. You didn’t treat me any different or try to change me. You never awkwardly steered the conversation away when I got a little deep in my emotions; you just let me talk. You never tried to solve my problems because they weren’t yours to solve and there never really was a solution. You would simply check on me and be sure I wasn’t stuck in my own head.

“So shits gonna get heavy for a second, and then hopefully go back to normal as long as everything is cool. And its fine if its not cool, it wont be a burden. You said you found out you were depressed the other day, today going alright?”

I’ve never felt pressured or uncomfortable around you. Since day one, there has always been a calming aura around you and I knew I could be myself around you; something very few of my very close friends have seen. Our laughter intertwined and echoed through your house as we had tickle fights and got into each other’s heads in your living room floor. We asked every question from “What do you like and dislike most about yourself?” to “What kind of burrito would you be?”. You didn’t force me to love myself and get better; you simply guided me by being yourself and allowing both of us to blossom together. You allowed me to get better on my own and I couldn’t be more grateful for you and the love and compassion you have shown me.