Hi everyone,
This doesn't matter. I think I just need to exhale deeply and I guess I'll do it publicly.
I haven't been well for quite some time. My depression and anxiety have really sent me into a whirlwind. I want to say I don't have control of my emotions, but the truth is that for the longest time I've had none at all.
There is a deep empty feeling, almost like a heartbreak…. Like, when you see your ex with someone else and you desperately want to be that person next to her/him… but instead of an ex and a heartbreak, it's watching other people just being alive and feeling a deep sorrow of knowing I'll never be one of those people who just lives.
I'll always be one of those people who aches every single day for reasons I'll never really understand.
If it was a heartbreak it would be easy. But instead it's more a lack of heart. Like, I don't know why I'm here. It hurts and it sucks and I have no way out, so I'm just forced to live and breathe and not even want something better; no, I'd never indulge myself with the thought of something better. But if it could just be less worse, less exhausting, less dark, that would be bleak but bearable.
I knew things were bad when I started crying because I missed my mom. Daily, almost every hour, I just needed a hug from her, but because of Covid19 I wasn't able to visit her. But then in mid-May, my wife decided that getting me help was important enough to take some risks, so she invited my mom and brother to visit us.
I wish I could say it helped (and in the long run, it did), but in the moment it made me feel so, so much worse.
I wanted more from my mom than what she could give. I asked a million questions and she answered them honestly, but I was frustrated because none of the answers explained why I am how I am.
“Well, if it wasn't dad, and it wasn't you, maybe my grandparents weren't as perfect as I remember them.”
“Your grandparents were great,” she sighed. “Honey, you just have a disease. There isn't an answer for that.”
“Okay,” I cried, “then why can't you all just let me go? You know I have this disease but you demand I stay alive and I am tired and I want to go. I'm done. Why won't anyone let me go?”
Mom took a deep breath, “because,” she said, “you wouldn't let anyone else go, either. We depend on each other to stay.”
I could do nothing but sob at the truth of the matter. I'm not the only one in my family with this disease, but sometimes I am the only one who thinks I'm unfairly and particularly burdened by it. Or maybe not. Fog of war and all that.
I don't want to share the details of what happened after that. Suffice it to say, things got immediately worse. When my mom left to go back home I hugged her tight, pretty sure it was the last time I would ever do so. It bothered me how frail she seemed. She's my mom, she's always been a rock, but now when i hug her it feels like she'll break.
We said our goodbyes, then I went back to bed, pulled the covers over my head, and sobbed some more.