How the Rain Helps Me Release My Depression


Editor's Note

If you experience suicidal thoughts, the following post could be potentially triggering. You can contact the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741741.

I have been longingly staring out the window for around two hours now. The smell of the rain is inviting my numb body to feel something, anything. I hop out of bed and pull on the nearest clothes lying on my dirty floor. I put a baseball hat on my head so that when I walk out of the dorm, I can’t be recognized. I pause for a moment, deciding if I really want to be alone right now. My depression speaks up for me and calls me to isolation. So, I sprint out of the dorm without talking to anybody.

The first raindrops hit my face as my feet hit the concrete. They’re so cold, so close to freezing that they could be ice in a few minutes. But, instead of running back inside, I pull off my hat and stare at the night sky, letting the drops slice my face. I don’t know how long I stand there… until I hear people across the quad leave their dorm. I quickly start to walk towards the creek, looking for a place to be alone.

As I walk, I feel the rain hit my skin and I am glad I can feel something. The water drips off my face and hair, like I’m crying but I don’t have to put forth the effort to do so. I walk alongside the creek and watch the roaring waters fill higher with the outpouring of the sky. I imagine myself swimming in the water, inevitably getting pulled under to move no more. The thought is strangely calming.

My foot breaks a stick and causes me to realize I am standing near the parking lot. It’s so empty. I turn my head and glance at the field of grass between the creek and parking lot, and instantly feel pulled to lie down. I walk deep enough into the field that I will be hard to spot and lie down in the mud. I close my eyes at first and feel the comforting plopping of rain on my face. Then I slowly open my eyes and let the water mix with my tears. I cry for the first time in months, all of nature being my only witness. I feel bitterly resolved and earthshakingly sad. Grief overwhelms me and I think about all of the things I have done wrong recently. I think of all of the people who have cut my chest open and watched my emotions pour out, but left before cleaning up the mess.

I leap up, angry for being wronged in this way. Why am I denied decent kindness and why do I have to be so lonely? I run to the creekside, my shoes filling with sand. Grabbing the nearest rock on the ground, I throw it as hard as I can into the roaring waters. I let out a scream of frustration, wanting to throw all of my negative emotions into the creek. I throw rock after rock, letting out a scream each time. Crying and grieving the loss of myself in the midst of life. With each throw, I feel lighter and at the same time fuller.

An hour later, I throw my last rock and take off my thoroughly soaked jacket. I start the long walk back to the dorm, my hair hanging in my face and water dripping off of my nose. As soon as I walk into the dorm, I am relieved nobody is in the lobby. I run straight to my room and kick off my shoes. Then I walk to my residential assistant’s room and sit down on the floor, apologizing for my wetness. She looks at me and asks if I want to talk, and I smile at her.

My words are rain, an outpour of the sky. I give up my burdens and sit wrapped in a towel, feeling grounded for the first time in months.

Photo by amirali beigi from Pexels


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