When Depression Invades Every Part of Your Day


I wake up, disappointed that I’m still alive. My hands feel chained to the bed. I just don’t want to get up and face the day. Closing my eyes and staying in bed seems like a very inviting option. I feel like there’s no way I would survive this. But then, life doesn’t offer me a choice.

I get up. Even simple tasks like showering and eating breakfast make me feel like I’m drowning. “Personal care” gets thrown out of the window.

I make my way to college. All the while, replaying each one of my depressing memories as I travel. My chest feels like I’ve swallowed a ton of bricks and my brain tells me about all sorts of possibilities that could make my day worse. It coaxes me to even jump out of the moving bus. Yet, the joke’s on me. I don’t get to have a say in this. So, I sit there brooding, silent tears flowing out of my eyes.

Several grueling moments later, I’m zoning out in my class, wishing I had stayed home. My body feels like it’s been dragged and tossed around by a giant monster. Every bit of the words my teacher says makes no sense to me. Why would it? I don’t even understand the meaning of my existence. So why would I care about science?

And then comes the worst part: interacting with people.

I can’t explain the reason for my sadness because I can’t figure it out myself. I can’t really tell people I didn’t want to see anyone and that I just want to stay in bed, thinking about how my lame existence is a burden to my parents. I can’t tell anyone that even looking at myself in the mirror makes me want to puke. So my brain automatically takes over. I put up a “natural” smile
on my face and make mere evasive conversations. I zone out during most of them too because I have nothing to talk. No sports, fashion, movies to talk about because I feel disconnected from everything.

The day drags on and I feel like I would die before this ordeal is over. Suicidal thoughts creep in and obsessions about my own death fill every crevice of my brain. All I could think of is how things would be better off that way. I also consciously realize how irrational and surreal it sounds, but I can’t help it. It is very painful to know that my life could have been better, yet, it is not. Because somehow depression decided to take me under its wing and teach me how much of an ugly failure I am. It lurks in the shadows, pouncing on me and crushing me under its weight.

I suddenly realize I’m back at home, lying on the bed again, somehow having survived the day unscathed. I wish someone would hug me and randomly start talking about the things I love. But I also wish people would just leave me alone. It’s paradoxical, confusing and bizarre.

Moments later, I slowly start sleeping again, wishing I don’t wake up the next day.

But, like I said, I have no choice. I have to keep doing this. I have to keep my chin up and pretend life’s great. (And I do it pretty well.)

I have to keep surviving.   

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Unsplash image via Aung Aung


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