Yeah. That’s what your told. Wash, eat, thinking positively. If only I could just do that.
Can you relate? I bet many can. Knowone choses to feel miserable. You don’t wake up and think, today I’ll be unhappy when I could be content, erm no. Yet most seem to think you’ll just have to snap out of it.
Chemical imbalance, emotional childhood neglect, traumatic experiences, genetic depression/anxiety. I don’t care for the reason anymore, just the cure, just some relief. My twenties are moving fast and the thoughts that I’m not enjoying the best years of my life only further plummets my mind into darkness.
Wash. I have tried relentlessly only to be reduced to a bubbling heap on the cold bathroom floor. I don’t want to smell! But I can’t muster the energy to push myself to care for my own basic needs, I look back in anguish at how I took these simple tasks for granted and now I’d be lucky to be able to lift the safety net of the duvet.
Eat. Each mouthful feels like like daggers going down my throat. I don’t desire to be thin, I’m not anorexic, I just can’t eat out of sheer hopelessness. The taste of the food doesn’t register with my brain, just a another pointless task in this fight to be here/not be here. Either is both as scary as the other. So I’m stuck in limbo.
Think positively? I would. But when life weighs you down and you don’t have the means, the money, or the strength to think let alone do something, how is it even possible. Mindfulness, I will try, but in current state of mind, no talking about living in the presence day offers any relief, any solace.
Sounds all so negative. I apologise. But these are my thoughts, the words that flood my mind constantly, how can ones brain be in a depressed state and yet my mind races with thoughts, with ideas that soon diminish as I feel the tears of despair rise up and come out onto my cheeks.
Anxiety, that’s what it is. Being depressed and being anxious, it’s like a living hell inside your mind. You want your body to work to function, to feel motivation, or any kind of enjoyment of something, then the anxiety slows you down. Your heart pounds in your chest, your stomach a flutter of disabling butterflies. You reach your clammy hands to your face only to realise that this cycle never seems to end, and again you avoided whatever task you were about to undertake. Fail. Another knock back.
Which is worse? Depression or anxiety? I’m still sitting on the decision that both are, however only having one would be a lot simpler.
Frustrated, despondent and morose 👇🏻