Depression

Depression is a fickle thing. The loathing and lethargy can rise up at any moment and remove any semblance of peace.

I don ‘t always notice when I fall into a depressive state. It’s usually a few days in that I realise how I am feeling. Or more to the point, what I’m not feeling. It’s the numbness, the lack of feeling anything that makes me realise that I stuck in this state.

The nothingness is worse than feeling it all. At least when I feel it, I feel human. The numbness removes everything, my heart, my soul, my humanity. The true depth of feeling nothing and not caring about myself, let alone anyone else.

These are the days I don’t want to get out of bed. These are the days I don’t want to eat. These are the days I don’t go to the gym. These are the days I don’t want to see or talk to anyone. These are the days I don’t want to leave my house. These are the days I lie to people and give excuses for why I can’t see them.

These are the days that when I finally feel again, I feel the guilt and shame. The guilt at not helping my friends when they need me without being able to tell the truth. The guilt of lying to everyone, family included that I am fine. When in fact I am truly not okay. The guilt that I couldn’t make it as a paramedic. The guilt I feel every time I hear a siren or see and ambulance. One of the reasons I can’t watch the news anymore.

Sometimes then I welcome the numb. I welcome the fact I feel nothing. It seems easier. Sometimes I try to feel something only to realise it might work for a moment, only to feel guilt later on.

Combined with my PTSD, my triggers will often set off a depressive episode. Though some of the small triggers I no longer notice. Even looking back, I can’t even remember what triggered this episode. But I know that the longer it lasts, the less I feel. The closer I get to the nothingness.

After the guilt and shame, comes the anger. Anger at myself for being weak. Anger that I can’t fight what is happening. Anger at how useless I am. Anger that if I can’t fix it, I will be stuck like this forever. Anger that I am not okay and I have no idea how to make it better. Anger that this happened. Anger that I let this happen. Anger that sometimes I don’t want to fix it, that I want to stay like that.

Hate is such an easy emotion. The ability to hate myself is something I have done most of my life. That hate obscures the ability to love others. As paramedic I was able to care about people. Take of others when they were in need. Take their pain, give a hug, show compassion. But the ability to truly care about those who cared about me was a much more difficult thing to do. Well, I really didn’t. The ability to love was destroyed a long time ago. Being able to care for others as a job took the last of my ability to care.

To never be thanked. To come home to an empty house. To know that I had no one to take care of me. I used alcohol to cover it all. Then sex to try and feel something. Then go to work, then repeat the cycle all over again. It was and easy way to cover up the constant pain I felt. It was easier than telling people how I truly felt. Though it ultimately led to where I am now. Stuck in long days of depression.

I have learnt to hide my pain from those around me. To wear a mask, not wanting to anyone to worry about me. I don’t want pity. I want to be truly loved for who I am, scars and all. But after years of hurt I keep everyone at arm’s length. It is easier to hide it all than reveal the truth. The truth will only hurt. I don’t need to hurt those around me. Just something more to push down and hide.

Sometimes I forget how to be happy. I can’t even remember a time that I was truly happy, without the assistance of alcohol or other substances.

It reminds me that only you can choose to be happy. No one can do it for you. No thing will do it for you. It is your choice to be happy or not. Running won’t change it. Hiding won’t change it.

There have been moments in my life when I thought I was coming out the other side, to only have the darkness rise back up and the numbness consumes me. There is relief on the other side. There is peace.

But the path is mine and mine alone.