You Again? #Depression

Depression is such an interesting phenomenon, isn't it?

It has so many variables from person to person. There's not just one type, is there? No. There's literally hundreds that manifests in so many different ways within it's hosts. Some stays are for days, some are for weeks, months, or even decades. Some drag it's host to the ground and keep them there for long periods at a time, others are able to walk around, but with a feeling of a heavy burden weighing them down with each laborious step.

I do write a lot about depression. I suffer from my own type. I speak from my own experience from my own struggle with illness, because this is how I cope. Maybe your experience won't match mine at all. That's okay. With the unique way my brain is wired neurologically I have come to expect it likely won't. I'll write about it anyway, and possibly someone might see bits of themselves within these words and at least know they're not the only one experiencing them.

Thoughts From the Unlovable Alien

The air outside is cloudy, cool and in stark contrast to the hot, windy days we've had recently. I hear the rain drop on the windows, and roof much like the tears in my lap. It's one of those days. If you're looking for warm , and fuzzy... this post isn't going to fulfill that.

It's happened again. I have been lied to. Betrayed, and forsaken.

At first there was anger, then the inevitable piecing out of what would be the logical way to handle the situation. I figured that out, and decided it was what was to be done. For a few days this was okay. Then that little voice inside of me got harder and harder to silence. It's the sound of my inner child, or whatever you want to call it. She began as an essence, but moved to a whisper. I escape her by daydreaming of times where things were better. There's no better way to soothe a current hurt than to get nostalgic. Suddenly, I am 15 again, and the possibilities are endless. I can remember when I felt I was something, and that I mattered. I don't search for a specific memory as much as how specific feeling. If I can at least artificially feel loved, and important than I can figure out how to get through another day. If I can convince myself that I am an okay person then I can cope, just one more day. That usually works for small bouts of loneliness, or rejections, but big ones? I just can't escape inside of my own head enough to alleviate that much sadness.

So, the little voice grows louder. Her mumbles begin to get more audible. "....doesn't like you..." and "..Your fault"... and more cynical statements begin surfacing. With it are the images of memories, and times long repressed to the back of my mind.

I get busy. I try to drown her out with tasks. I really don't have time for all this negativity. I have stuff to do! My house gets cleaner, as I fall apart inside. Perfection is soothing to me, as I strive to have the best of everything. Obsessive would be a good word to describe this phase of mental deterioration. To others it looks like I am just getting things done. I am. Sometimes, this motivation is all I need to snap back to feeling good again. However, if it isn't.... it is pretty much the last stop on the coping train.

If not, then what?

The Space Where My Picture Used to Be- healing and accepting parental rejection

This morning my husband mentioned something to me that set off one of my triggers. It's the trigger that is linked to a sad, desperate, despairing deep in my the pit of stomach. It doesn't matter what it was, because that's not really important. What is important is that something so seemingly mundane should not release in me such extreme emotions that I sit on the edge swinging my feet, and tossing pebbles curiously into the pit of despair for the rest of the day. I make no fuss. No one around me would likely guess that I feel this way. I have matured enough to know that my reaction to something so small is out of proportion to the situation. It's a quiet sadness that longs for reassurance.

I know where this pain comes from, and while it's understandable, there is no logic in getting upset over something I can't control.

A few weeks ago my grandfather, and his new wife came to take my two oldest to stay with them for a few days. I jumped at this opportunity, because neither my parents, or my husband's parents (except his father) do anything with my kids. They literally don't ever have the grandparent experience.  While they were there they visited my parents.

My daughter said that there was no evidence in their home that I even ever existed. All pictures of me have been removed