by Renee Grimes

Created on: December 13, 2008

Those of us suffering from depression see dealing with every day life as challenging. The decision to get out of bed every morning is a war raging inside of yourself. Going through all of the excuses in your head as to why you shouldn't crawl as far under the blanket as you can possibly get; hiding yourself from the world and all of their perfection driven stress. You finally fail to come up with an excuse and find yourself stumbling into the bathroom; each exhausting step a little slower than the last; finding yourself avoiding the mirror as you pass. You can't stand to look at your reflection; your skin is pale, your eyes are dark, and there is always a look of gloom.

Seeking solace you go to the doctor and tell them what you're feeling. You then find yourself on anti-depressants and mood stabilizers with a prescription to head out to a therapist and spill everything from inside of yourself to a complete stranger of which you feel could be as messed up inside as you are, in their own little way. As they steal quick glances at the clock every ten minutes you grow impatient and tell them to charge you for the full hour as you get up and walk out of the room. You take your happy pills finding little humor in anything around you.

Time drags by; each minute seeming to take an eternity to pass. The icy cold fingers of depression grabbing hold and dragging you deeper into a dark and lonely hole of uncaring. Wanting to curl up and let it take you over so that you do not have to struggle with the will to face another day. Feeling as though no one knows what you are going through, and that you are never going to be normal or find happiness. Trying to recall why you feel the way you do can prove extremely difficult; sometimes there aren't any reasons. You are just unhappy and always so tired and could literally sleep for days on end.

The small things that used to make you smile now provoke no reaction. You see a small child playing and laughing and somehow find yourself grieving for that innocent carefree child that you used to be. Nothing can hold your interest for very long and you can't concentrate on things that you once loved. You dig deep inside of yourself searching for something to pull you back together only to find that you don't care.

That is the worst part of the depression, not caring. Usually having no desire to live another day; then finding that you don't quite have the guts to end your life, nor the ambition to live it. Your head is a constant battleground. Your life consistently meaningless to yourself. Every day pulling you deeper into that lonely hole of despair.

Living life with depression is much like living every day with a broken heart.

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