I have however, once again, been down that all too familiar black hole a fair bit recently. The entries in this journal have, of late, tended to focus more on depression/mental health than I would probably have wanted (this post being no exception).
It’s a familiarity that, perversely, feels comfortable in the way that it wraps you up and numbs you from the hurts of the outside world. The comfort is, of course, a lie. Depression gnaws unrelentingly at your soul under the anaesthesia of darkness. The “comfort” is, however, a seductive deception.
And, so once again I find myself in that position where part of me wants to tear everything down, remove all trace of me (such as that is possible) from the online world and retreat into my aloneness, while another part of me resists, knowing that even this is futile, because I will always need somewhere to release the dark thoughts.
My finger hovered over the delete button quite a few time recently, the contemplation of a form of electronic/online suicide; consigning my cyber self to a collection of random ones and zeros.
And yet, somehow I am still here, still typing out my thoughts, howling at the moon, sharing parts of me whether or not anyone actually wants to be a recipient or “beneficiary” of my darker side.
Even when you are surrounded with the care of people who hold you dear, depression is a lonely illness; it is a loneliness at the very core of your being that no amount of company, however caring or supportive can relieve. Dark thoughts bear down with a crushing oppressiveness that drains every ounce of strength from you as you fight to prevent it forcing you to you knees.
It is a daily struggle; sometimes an hourly struggle. It is a battle with only the occasional ceasefire which is never quite enough to allow you to fully prepare for the next offensive.
And here I am, a leaf adrift in the maelstrom of my own mind; powerless in the face of forces beyond my control.