As Yet Untitled…

Depression. The Black Dog.

Call it what you will, some of us have been there and come back again. Some never escape.

They say it helps to talk about it. How can you talk when no words will do it justice? The feeling of complete hopelessness and helplessness that overcomes you when you least expect it and so are at it’s mercy until you get spit out the other side, a shivering shadow of your real self. And what about when you get so far from your ‘real self’ that you can’t even remember what is your ‘real self’ anymore? When you feel so changed and dispirited that you’re sure you’ll never get back to the way it was.

People offer you support, but as much as they try to help, and support you, there is always that feeling of complete isolation. Nobody can possibly understand how you feel. You want to push them away as far as possible, because, ultimately, you will hurt them. It might be seen as selfishness to the uninitiated, but it is nothing more than your brain telling you that it is for the best. If it hurts them to see you suffering, then they should get the hell out, while the going is good. That way, you won’t disturb them with your self-loathing, guilt-ridden outbursts of emotion. Maybe that way, they won’t have to be the one that discovers you should you decide to take the ultimate escape route.

Or, if you’re lucky, you find something to hold on to. Something to keep the lungs inflating and deflating and the heart to keep pumping that blood through your body. Something that on the darkest of days, when those darkest of thoughts are taunting you, it just has enough to shine a bright light into the darkness, and part the clouds that threaten to engulf you for eternity. If you have that something, hold on tight and don’t let go. It might just save your life. If you don’t have it, then you just aren’t looking in the right place – but then if you don’t know who you are any more, how on earth are you supposed to look for something right?

It can be a comment from a stranger, the knowledge that a complete stranger is concerned about another complete stranger, because amidst the hatred that seems to be infiltrating society, there is still plenty of love and caring for our common man. No matter how many vanity-driven selfies that litters Instagram, or self-important declarations of opinion on Facebook, there are some genuine, real people, with real problems of their own, taking time out to offer a friendly ear to others. And these people are worth their weight in gold.

I don’t know about you, but if I look through my Instagram feed, or at my Facebook friends list, there are people I’ve never met – possibly never will, but yet who I would not, or could not live without. To these people, I say, from the bottom of my heart, ‘Thank You’.


One thought on “As Yet Untitled…

  1. This truly hit home for me. I’m nowhere near as eloquent, when writing about or discussing my feelings but I guess that’s the point when depression seeps in or ambushes you like a freight train. Its really tough to think outside the fog to see who cares and not to feel like they are just saying it to alieviate their own guilt because you dont feel worthy of anyones time.

    My point is you are not alone. You are loved by many, for genuine reasons. I hardly know you, but you’re wonderful dry wit and intelligent but silly personality makes me think we are friends. It’s cliché to say and it’s been said to me many many time, but I genuinely mean that it: if you ever want someone to talk to, I’m here. Anytime of day, any day of the week, I can be a good listener.

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