What My Depression Looks Like Today
I get out of bed in the morning, some invisible force weighing me down, doubling my weight. I open my closet and gather the first decent looking outfit I find; I choose comfort over style every time. The tears rarely come anymore; I hate this, I truly do, because I need the soothing effects of crying.
I’m not hungry this morning. Once again, my mother suggests I take something on-the-go. I dismiss her, leaving in a hurry once I see the worry in her eyes. I don’t want her to see the emptiness in my own eyes. She has enough to worry about. I feel the familiar tugging of self-hate rip at my insides. You see, my mother has always been my best friend and hero. I’m not supposed to add to her list of problems, I’m supposed to lighten her load. Why can’t I just be a better daughter, for her sake? My selfishness is unparalleled.
At long last, the tears that I’ve long prayed for start to build in my eyes, but I curse because they’ve come at the wrong time. I need to stay strong in public; no one wants to deal with some emotional girl. What the hell are they supposed to do about it? I bury the feelings down, down deeper than before. I sigh, but not with relief. Never with relief. I take my medication. I need to keep it together today.
I arrive at the store, list of items in hand. I grab a cart and begin looking for the items. I make my way around the store in a slow manner, body aching and mind numb. I’m already tired. But who am I kidding? I’m always tired. My thoughts begin to wander; I need to make more of an effort to see my friends. Why can’t I be there for them? I wish I wasn’t so exhausted all the time. I wish getting out of bed in the mornings wasn’t such a chore. I need to get out more, have a little fun. Unfortunately, I’d choose my bed and Netflix over social settings any day of the week. “Ma’am, may I help you with something?” A voice interrupts my thoughts, bringing me back to the present. I look over and see an older male looking at me, a hint of confusion in his brown eyes.
I realize I’ve been staring off into space again; no one looks at a bag of chips for that long, and I’ve been caught. The fake smile comes easy, and I say something about not knowing which bag of chips I want and then thank him. I grab at a random bag to toss into my cart and then walk away at a quicker pace. I sigh.
I continue to go through the motions as I run my errands. I was able to get out of the house today and I finally accomplished a good chunk from my to-do list. I’m as proud of myself as I can be. I get a text from my mother, asking if I’d like to go shopping with her later. More shopping? But I’m so exhausted. I’ve put on a brave face for hours today. I look at the clock on my phone: 2:30 p.m. I still have half a day ahead of me? I sigh. My anxiety begins to build. I text back a lame excuse, hating myself the entire time. I want to be there for my mom. Why can’t I just…?
I make it home, grab my pajamas and get into bed. At long last. I turn on Netflix and watch my favorite show until I drift into sweet oblivion. I sleep until midnight.
I awake and silence greets me like an old friend. This is my favorite time, when everyone else is sleeping and I have all the time in the world to lounge and just be me. The shadows of depression and anxiety begin to stir shortly after waking. It’s now past midnight, so technically it’s another day. I sigh.
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Getty image via Thiago Santos