Shape-shifter (n.): one that seems able to change form or identity at
will.
Depression is not a tangible being that can be outlined by a
set definition; it manifests itself in many different ways, for different
people, at different times. Sometimes it presents itself externally, sometimes
internally. Sometimes it’s something enticing, sometimes it’s threatening and
terrifying. It is an expert shape-shifter; it knows your desires and your fears,
therefore is able to draw you in by creating a mirage of your deepest
yearnings. Once it has you, it manifests into the demons that haunt you,
scaring you to death. This is how it retains its grip. This is how it wins.
Although I cannot speak for others, these are some of the forms that Depression
has taken in my life-long battle with it.
Depression is the flood
of water that comes gushing toward you, while you are standing in a narrow
corridor, with your back against the wall and nowhere to run. It is the water
filling up your lungs as you try to swim, making it harder to breathe. You
start to panic as the water rises above you, knowing that there is nowhere to
go; you are stuck. You are drowning.
Depression is the line
of gasoline that leads straight to you as someone lights the flame. You see
the match falling in slow motion; knowing that the fire will inevitably reach
you, but you are rooted to the spot. You watch the flames approach; you feel
the blazing heat on your face. You feel the fire burning your skin and it
hurts, but you cannot move. You know that it is only a matter of time until the
flames engulf you, leaving nothing behind except ashes on the ground.
Depression is the dirty
mistress. Your partner knows about her, but knows that you will never leave
her. They have to deal with having a third party in your relationship, no
matter how much they try to show you that you don’t need her. They will love
you until it hurts, thinking that if they loved you enough, you would leave
Depression for good. Depression is the desert
that is between you and your lover when you lay your head down at night. Your
lover will reach for you, but you will be too far away. It will prevent anyone
from getting close to you, because this desert is impassable. You are an island
that no one will be able to get to.
Depression is the monster
hiding under your bed. You can hear it breathing when you close your eyes,
trying to fall asleep. Even though you cannot see it, you know that it’s there.
It’s lying in wait, to grab you at any moment. You pull the covers over your
head and try to pretend you’re invisible, just like you did when you were a
child, thinking that it will eventually give up. It doesn’t work; it never
does. Depression is the collection of
skeletons in your closet that keep falling out. They wake you up with a
loud crash at two in the morning. You get out of bed and pick them up, stuffing
them back into the closet, knowing that the closet is just too small to hold
them. Using all of your weight, you close the door, acknowledging that they
will eventually fall out once again.
Depression is a screaming
child. It wants what it wants when it wants it. If you don’t give it your
full attention, it will start screaming until you do. You cannot focus on
anything else; you cannot have a moment’s peace. It disguises itself as the critical mother, pointing out all of
your flaws and telling you that you aren’t good enough. You’re a disappointment
and a failure. You listen to her and realize that you will never be good
enough, no matter how hard you try. It can act as the clueless father who tells you that “other people have it worse, so
suck it up”. You start to feel guilty because you know he is right, and your
feelings are instantly invalidated.
Depression can be a
million needles piercing your skin at once. Your body is rigid and you’re
paralyzed. You start to bleed and no one notices. You are bleeding from every
part on your body but no one can see it. You need help, you need a bandage, but
you cannot speak. Depression is the duct
tape over your mouth, as you scream for help. No one can hear you. You
scream until your voice is hoarse, but it’s no good – they can’t hear you.
Depression is the blindfold over
your eyes that disables you from being able to see things clearly, from being
able to see anything at all. All you can see is blackness. There is nothing
ahead of you; no hope, no future, just darkness.
Depression is the weight
sitting on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. Your breathing
becomes shallow as you can feel your ribs breaking one by one. It is the ankle weights that you wear every day,
causing your footsteps to be heavy, making it difficult for you to move. You
try to run, but they weigh you down, until you eventually collapse from
exhaustion. Even walking is something grueling and taxing. Every day routines
become fatiguing.
Depression is a hand
clenched around your throat, choking you, after feeling the light touch of
another human being. Depression is a jealous
girlfriend; she does not want you to have any contact with someone else.
She wants you all to herself and will stop at nothing to make that happen.
Depression can be the abusive husband
that hits you and uses verbal and emotional abuse to degrade you, to make you
feel like dirt beneath his feet. Then, he turns around and tells you that he
only does this because of YOUR actions. If you would just learn to be good, to
be worth something, he wouldn’t have to hurt you. After all, he loves you. He’s
the only one that does.
Depression is the assortment of black rose petals slowly falling from a bush, as you watch from the
window. You can’t understand how something that was once so beautiful, is
crumbling right before your eyes and changing into something ugly, something
dreadful. Depression can be the curtains
being ripped closed, so that no light can seep in. You can no longer see the
world, even from your window, and you are left inside an empty, dark room.
Depression is a bully
that picks on you for no reason; a bully that is miserable and wants you to be
just as, if not more, miserable than he. He will hit you, embarrass you, and
take things from you. You are at his mercy because he is twice your size and no
one will step in to help you. Depression is the bartender pouring you another drink. “Just one more” he says, enabling
your habit. Depression is your security
blanket, the one you have had since you were young. You know you have grown
out of it, you know that it isn’t good for you, but it makes you feel
comfortable. It is the only thing you have ever known, and even though it is
debilitating, it is all you have.
Depression is the group
of vultures that circle above, smelling the death that is inside of you.
They are eagerly waiting for you to finally collapse so that they can swoop
down and devour you. It is the black rain
cloud that follows you around wherever you go, even when you can see the
bright skies and sun above everyone else but you. It is the Grim Reaper that is hovering behind
you, following you throughout your day; the dismal reminder that death is right
around the corner. You know your soul is dying. You can feel it slipping away.
You are slipping away.
It’s an external being, one that is hell bent on destroying
you. It’s a shapeless monster that hides in the deepest caves, in the darkest
of corners. You decide to meet its eyes and to finally confront it, but when
you look up, all you see is yourself staring right back at you. Your eyes open
wide in horror, as the mirror image’s mouth forms a smile. The realization
hits: the monster has been you the entire time.