The Bottomless Pit: The Journey of a Depressed Mind

It is the constant gnawing and confusion that is hard to explain. Something has begun to eat me inside and I am not able to point it out. What is this heaviness in my head? This is not a headache. I must be sick. Is a fever imminent? No, it’s not. I know it will stay with me for a while. I’m scared? I am trying to acknowledge its existence. I have been told that the sheer understanding of this is the cure.
There is this melancholy that sinks in and lingers everywhere. It is as if everything around has turned gray and black. There is no other color. There is no need for any other color. Why do I feel like crying all the time? There is no apparent reason to cry! Yet that is how it feels. Tears need to come out. Suddenly, the fatigue becomes overwhelming. Every ounce of energy is being drained. My limbs are weakening and there is an urgent need to sleep. I sleep like there is no tomorrow, not wanting to wake up because I no longer want to see the world. My bed has become my savior.
What has happened to my hobbies and activities that I loved? I’m losing interest in everything. All the events happening around me feel like a movie that is running from a distance.
Fatigue has become an important part of my life. How do you explain this to someone? Is there a noticeable change in my appetite? Eating habits have changed. I have started to isolate myself.
I feel dead This sinking feeling won’t leave me. I’m breathless. There is this heaviness in my heart that is taking my breath away. I feel disappointed, with myself and with the people around me. Why do others disappoint me? It is as if I have become brittle like a thin piece of glass, which will shatter at the slightest touch. It’s mid afternoon. Because I do not have hungry? I force myself to eat something that fewer people order. Now I want to vomit. I no longer exist. My existence has become blurred. The invisible line between life and death seems to be playing with me. I am still finding it difficult to breathe. I look around frantically, looking for someone to help me. How do I ask for help? What do I say? Do I tell them that my heart is sinking, I can’t breathe and I feel eternally tired? How can anyone understand this until they feel it themselves? They will assume that I am sick or have a fever and advise me to rest. They’ll ask me to go out with friends. How do I tell them that social interaction is the last thing I want to do right now? I feel this numbering pain in my shoulders and neck. I’m sick?
I drink a glass of cold water. Somehow it feels good as it goes down my neck. I can feel it tracing its way down my throat. I look around me again. People are busy in their own worlds. I have no idea how to ask for help. I take a walk to the bathroom, lock myself in a cubicle and the tears begin to roll. Why am I crying? I have everything possible to make my life comfortable. What are these tears for? What do I want from others? If happiness comes from within, where is it now? The questions are endless and there are no answers. My mind has become a jungle of thoughts. I hate myself. Yes.

Regardless of what has happened to me, this condition is debilitating. Will this kill me or will I kill myself? Someone had told me once that suicide is not a way out. I believe in this. What if my soul gets stuck in a spiral for thousands of years? There would be no respite from that. I have to find a way to get out of here. Medications, yes, help. There are friends who are willing to sit with me and listen without prejudice. How do I tell them that despite longing for a human touch, I dare not see anyone? Yes, it is a conflict situation. I want to be surrounded by people who love me and at the same time, any socialization detests me. How could anyone understand that?

Now I’m thinking about what could calm me down. A walk among the trees, taking a deep breath in the fresh air and the soothing color of green, sounds like paradise. A chat over a cup of tea also seems like a good proposition. Good nutrition is always considered therapeutic. I must avoid alcohol. Although it would give a momentary euphoria, the consequences would be more discouraging. As I think about these things, I realize that my breathing has returned to normal. I am no longer oblivious to what is happening around me. I can hear what others around me are talking about. Yes, it’s gone for now. I also know that it will come back, and I can’t imagine its rhythm. I am scared. However, that’s how it is. So I am special.

I am grateful that this has made me more sensitive towards the emotions of others. I no longer judge people. Yes, I am taking a deep breath now. My heart is lighter. I will continue to move on with my life for now. I remember someone said that we would believe only what our eyes can see. The invisibility of my affliction is a curse I must bear. Today, I move forward with baby steps, embracing every little spark that comes my way.