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Tag Archives: depression

A window into the darkness

g fa - alone

Some days I don’t need to try and life is good. Some days, it’s all I can do to just get out of bed and feed myself. Other days, with a little effort, I manage just fine and feel better for it. One of my biggest challenges is words. They are swirling in my mind constantly and keep me awake for hours at night, but the moment I try to put pen to paper or keyboard… it’s all gone. Blank. For someone who was a prolific writer and blogger, I now never write. Putting out one sentence for something like Facebook takes monumental effort, so I’m grateful to others who write.

A while ago, I stumbled on a poem by Hannah Nicole that very eloquently describes what I know many are feeling and experiencing.

Depression does not always mean
Beautiful girls shattering at the wrists
A glorified, heroic battle for your sanity
Or mothers that never got the chance to say good-bye

Sometimes depression means
Not getting out of bed for three days
Because your feet refuse to believe
That they will not shatter upon impact with the floor

Sometimes depression means
That summoning the willpower
To go downstairs and do the laundry
Is the most impressive thing you accomplish that week

Sometimes depression means
Lying on the floor staring at the ceiling for hours
Because you cannot convince your body
That it is capable of movement

Sometimes depression means
Not being able to write for weeks
Because the only words you have to offer the world
Are trapped and drowning and I swear to God I’m trying

Sometimes depression means
That every single bone in your body aches
But you have to keep going through the motions
Because you are not allowed to call in to work depressed

Sometimes depression means
Ignoring every phone call for an entire month
Because yes, they have the right number
But you’re not the person they’re looking for, not anymore

And yes, I have been guilty of avoiding answering the phone. I don’t do that anymore, but I’ve been there… when my heart was too full and my mind was dark with no windows to the outside.

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Posted by on September 10, 2015 in life, poetry, thought

 

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Making friends with the dark

…0r at least being accepting of the dark.

I live about as close to paradise as one can get. Yes, there are things I’d love to improve our situation with, but otherwise, we’re in a good place, surrounded by lovely people. Still, there are times when I look out at the bright sunshine and all I see is the dark within me.

Art by Chris Spring 

The dark is heavy and impenetrable. It actually pushes that bright sunshine aside. Smiles become work. laughter is forced up from a memory of the feeling. I walk with my head bowed. “What’s wrong?” asked a colleague. “Nothing,” say I. “Where’s the bubbly, smiley Corrianne I’ve come to know?” she asked. “I shot her,” was my reply. I smiled at her. “She’ll be back tomorrow.” I hope.

You see, it gets comfortable in the dark. I’ve always loved the dark. I think, for me, it’s a time when the excess of stimuli that comes with the day is quietened. I have to be careful, though, that the dark doesn’t overtake me.

This dark is different… definitely not comfortable. It’s a time when I stare at beauty and I hurt. It’s a time when click through my friends online and I’m tempted to just close my accounts and cop out of it all. It’s a time when I sit, looking inward and what I see makes me cry. My thoughts are uncomfortable with sharp edges jabbing my mind.

I go off to cook dinner, not because I want to, but because it’s a requirement of relative normality. I put on some fighting music, something to stir the beast in me. Some songs make me cry over the onions (I knew there was a reason I like cooking with onions!) and some had me belting out defiantly against the world and all that ailed me.

Yes, tomorrow I’ll let the ‘other me’ back. I might even let her play a while.

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2 Comments

Posted by on September 18, 2012 in moody

 

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