Sleep can be such a difficult issue to handle when one’s going through depression or anxiety. From personal experience, first, it’s hard to fall asleep. Thoughts keep racing. Fears camp in your mind. After some time, the mind tires and I doze off. Phase Two, bad dreams. They just pop by and disturb the sleep you so difficultly attained. They take away the peace you had hoped sleep would bring. The final difficulty – is waking up from that sleep. Once you get used to just lying down, no matter how unpleasant, it just unfortunately feels like the safest option. Everything related to waking up is scary, and draining. Some days it feels impossible to get up. It’s so hard that even the physical body rejects the idea of waking up by aching all over and becoming heavy (amongst other things). This three-stage battle is fought every day. And I think we need to reward ourselves for being able to make through it. I don’t know yet what that reward is though.
My therapist says I need to write to express my emotions. But when you feel emotionally numb most of the time and are unaware of what is making you “randomly” cry, head hurt, chest pain, body ache, feel dizzy, lose hope, then what are you to do? Should I focus on what’s bad or wrong in life, but that shit is there all the time and it comes and goes, and I have made (rational) peace with that. But I’ve tried everything else. So even though I don’t know how writing things down, things I already verbally rant about to others, will help, I will give it a try. Sidenote: how weird is it to come across your old posts and see the person you were, the things that affected you, how you thought etc. Not weird in a disgusting way. But weird like ‘huh, in.ter.es.ting’
“If you believe in yourself and work hard, you have a fighting shot at having your dreams come true.” – Mindy Kaling
You say you would like to change, but you don’t really try and you lie.
I had high hopes. I thought despite all, deep inside, you cared about me. But now I know you are very self-centered and very selfish. You don’t care about me, even though I tried to help you every way I can. This flashing reality stings.
Now that you have what you want and are nonchalant towards me, I silently bid adieu to you old friend. And I slowly try to release the pain of an abandoned heart.
I’ve started to hate you, for all you put me through, for playing with my naivety and trust. You seemed like a player from the start, but little did I know how enraging your game would be.
You’ve hurt me more than anybody has in a long time — not once, but repeatedly, even after I voiced my concerns.
You say you try but it’s hard to change. I guess that means this is the end?
I have to see you every day, give a cordial smile, and keep up a straight face. Inside, I sometimes wish you would burn.
Sometimes I think I am overreacting. Maybe you aren’t fully aware of how your personality flaws affect me. But I clearly remember telling you time and time again to just stop. And I also clearly remember you not having the most basic level of compassion when I was in pain and crying.
I hope I remember this clearly down the line, years from now, when your name might suddenly pop on Facebook, and I would wonder what happened to that.
Have you ever felt so angry and heated up, that you had to turn on the fan even though it’s 12 degrees outside?
I am in pain. Could be worse though.
I feel like over the past months you have gradually been making me feel helpless, like a puppet who is doomed to lie at the corner of disaster.
I got diagnosed for chronic depression. It’s a mixed sense of hope, relief, and worry.
I go to you for a piece of solace
Walking over puddles
Carefully, one by one
Wishing I could fly through
On a dark rainy day
That’s what I hope for
As she walked further into the realms of reality, she understood how pretentious it is
And when you try to rise above, you realize the feet are tied to shackles that have being rusting for years
Confined in Uncertainty
What happens when you believe you can?
I can’t take this anymore. I need therapy.
There’s a bully in my head,
Who won’t leave me to rest,
Or let me think about anything nice.
It stays there all the time uninvited,
Telling me how anything I do doesn’t cut it.
How do I stand up to the devil in me?
Get off the proverbial treadmill, and take a walk
Some days I feel like I am making significant progress, and some days I want to die.