Hope and Depression

Ok, this is going to be much more personal than most of my posts and is going to deal a pretty hefty depressive episode. I wrote this on October 10, 2012 just before I had surgery to remove some benign growths/tumors. I’ve talked to a lot of people lately who suffer through similar (and worse) maladies, and I just wanted to add my voice to theirs and say this: If you’ve ever felt this way, you’re not alone. And no matter how bad things are, I’m going to try and find the good.

I’ve come a long way from being this girl, but I’m never going to forget her. When things are better, as they (thankfully) are now, or even when I’m feeling frustrated by my slow progress, I’m going to look back at this girl and recognize that any progress, no matter how small, is valid and worth remembering.


I feel. . . lost. . . stuck.

I feel as though I am in the wrong body at the wrong age. Like I’m a leader stuck in a small town in a failing body.

I want to be DOING things. Saving the world, changing a life, making a difference. And instead, I’m memorizing facts and regurgitating them for a favorable grade.

I want my life to MEAN something, yet I find no sense of meaning or belonging. I find nothing to motivate me, nothing to make me tick. It used to be that money was enough, that I could just tell myself it was worth it for the money. I lied. Money isn’t a motivator unless I’m starving, and even then, it just doesn’t feel like enough.

I feel like there should be so much more than this. So much more than walking through the same routine of homework, class, and leisure. Where is the meaning? What does it all amount to? If you are me right now, nothing.

I dream of doing BIG things. World-changing, ground-breaking things. And then, when I wake up, I’m more than angry. . . I’m positively livid. I want to throw and break things or just curl up in bed and give up. In my dreams, I am still usually debilitated in some way, but I have it under control. I can deal with it and do things despite it.

Yet here I am, paralyzed with anger and fear and pain, not knowing what I can do, not knowing if I will be given the opportunity to do ANYTHING. Stuck in the limbo of “not knowing” and trying to keep life going despite it. But how? I want to go somewhere, but I don’t know if I will have the same money today as next week. I want to do something, but I don’t know if I will be too sick. I want to BE someone, but I don’t even know if I carry something that will kill me before I can.

It all seems so meaningless. And I’m trapped.

I am always exhausted. No amount of sleep satiates my need for real rest. And no one knows why.

I am always in pain. Medicines and treatments don’t even touch it. And no one knows why.

I am always hungry. No matter what I eat, even if it is the PERFECT thing, I must have more of it. No matter how many beautiful things I see, I want to see more. No matter how many people I talk to, I want to talk more. No matter how much I am loved, I want to be loved more. I want to touch more, experience more, write more, read more, dance more, sing more, help more. And in this endless hunger for beauty, knowledge, art, food, I am paralyzed by the sheer amount of ravenous longing and I stop trying to fill it. And so I am always starving to death. And I never know why.

I want to be satiated by the pleasures that others rave about. I want to walk away from a meal, from sex, from a museum, from a movie or play, from a trip and say, “I’m satisfied. I’ll be full for a while now.” But it never happens. I step away from things feeling more dissatisfied than I began. I walk away always wanting more.

Even 100 percents don’t satisfy me. I always feel as though it wasn’t enough, that there could have been more that went into it. Unless it’s 120 percent, it feels as though I didn’t even try. Unless I have exhausted my efforts and nearly died to accomplish something, it feels hollow. And even then, there is always more to be done, so I am never truly satisfied. Awards, praises, accolades. . . there’s never enough.

It seems selfish, I know, but unless someone has had to live like this, I don’t think they can judge me.  If I had the means, I could conquer the world this way. If I had the health, nothing would ever stop me. But there it is: being sick and broke because of it. How is it fair to give someone so much drive and then proceed to chain them to the wall?

Have you felt this way? You have many virtual hugs from me 🙂 I’m going to keep fighting. I hope you will, too. ❤

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