Small diary note about depression.
I feel weak.
I feel defeated.
I feel empty.
I am depressed.
The thought of that is not scary for me somehow. What I am more sad and upset about is the fact that people close to me need to deal with me at my lowest. They have their own problems to deal with. I had an idea of separating myself from everybody until I get better, but I need them. I have no idea how to deal with my emotions. They are like a wildfire, consuming me even though I shout for a release.
As of last week, I am trying to get to the doctors to speak about my depression. What made me take that step after living for two years in denial? Thinking about my past relationship and realising that depression had a massive effect on it. Me getting angry all the time for even smallest thing. I want to change that hate and emptiness into love. Also, I realised that writing stopped exciting me. And for me, that was the worse thing that could happen.
I am scared. Somehow depression became a part of me. I used it to my advantage in writing, but I am tired of fighting this battle. Because no matter how many people surround me, I am alone fighting. Only I can make a change in this chaos.
I felt relieved after telling my friends that I will go and seek help. I seriously couldn’t ask for better people, they check on me often. One of my friends I treat like a sister and finally telling her how I felt was great. Plus, during the day she made me laugh loads. I haven’t felt so alive for months.
What is the point in me writing all of this? I honestly don’t know. I needed some sort of outlet and writing was always it. Now I am scared, petrified that my writing would go with depression. Because my love for writing is infinite. Even if it would mean depression, I would keep it and carry on writing. I don’t want to lose a thing that was keeping me going for so many years now. But we will see.
To anyone out there who is depressed.
You are not alone.
You are loved.