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When Depression Makes You Lose Time

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Although I was diagnosed with chronic depression two years ago, I have been living with it for much longer. It took away the life I called mine. Growing up, I always aspired to be somebody else, somebody more than who I was. Depression turned me into someone entirely unrecognizable. I suppose you have to be careful what you wish for. You have to be prepared for the worst. By that, I mean be prepared when it comes true.

I lost track of the last time I took a shower. Was it the day before yesterday? Or was it last week? If not a shower, did I brush my teeth? Or wash my face? If so, when was that? Time passes without touching me. My bottles of lotions and sunscreens sit collecting dust and eventually expire, brand new, unopened bottles.

The baby carrots I bought are rotting in the fridge. They are two months old. But wasn’t it just yesterday when I bought them? I can’t be certain. When did a Monday turn into a Saturday? When did 8:00 a.m. turn into 2:30 a.m.?

And why the hell am I still up?! I don’t sleep at all at night. By 7:00 a.m., I fall asleep. I wake up at 5:00 p.m. and spend the remaining time in bed, waiting for 7:00 a.m. again. If for some reason I must go outside, then I have to prepare myself mentally for hours. It seems like such an exhausting exercise.

I have a phantom pain all over my body. My legs are too weak. I feel like they would give away the moment I stand up. I take an antacid in order to forget about the constant nausea that riddles my abdomen.

I look at myself sometimes in the mirror. My lips have turned dark. The dark circles under my eyes spread further every day. I look so tired. But what did I even do to warrant this exhaustion? I have no routine. I sleep a lot, at odd times. When I wake up, I feel extremely groggy and am usually very hungry.

I don’t eat well. The thought of going to the kitchen and cooking something is excruciating. If on a rare occasion I decide to cook, then I pay no heed to how much time the meal needs to cook well or the ingredients. I can’t wait for it to be done so I can crawl back into bed and eat before I go to sleep again.

I constantly have my earphones on. I am either playing movies or music on my laptop or iPod. I can’t stand being left alone with my thoughts. I can’t deal with the silence. When I watch something, I am transported to their world and I can conveniently ignore my own.

My mind is my worst enemy. But how do you successfully escape an enemy that lives inside you? I am such a great actor. No one suspects anything. No one knows the pain I carry and live with every day.

I find my throat closing up when I think about asking for help. I never talk about it. I have no one around me to help me. I am seeing a guy. If he comes over, then I hide my pills and my book on how to deal with depression. I can pretend so well. Sometimes, I even trick myself into believing my ruse. Earlier, at least I called my friends when I was upset. Now, the thought of talking to someone shatters me. I just cannot. So now I have two lives.There is violence inside me. There is chaos inside me. I can barely say hello out loud. It seems like a ticking bomb.

I like to think I am past the worst, well past it. Depression destroyed everything I cared about. It took apart my life, but it gave me a blank canvas on which to paint again, paint with shades of strength.

Originally published: July 28, 2016
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