Depression Is Consuming My Life

I am comprised of medical issues, a slight Harry Potter obsession, an average singing voice, a pretty boring sense of style, a loud laugh, strong opinions, a craving for purpose and answers, and most of all, I’m a bundle of contradictions. The craziest contradiction of all? In a way, I’m happy that all that I’ve gone through has happened.

I feel like I have a certain appreciation for life that some of my friends may never understand. All my grandparents have passed away, I’ve lost nursing home residents who I became close to through volunteering, I worked in a hospital for a year and experienced even more loss, I’ve struggled to get pregnant for over a year, and I traumatically lost one during that time. I’m desperate to get pregnant again, and yet terrified. I’m so aware of everything that can go wrong, that there’s never a moment where I can safely and securely say, “this can’t end badly.” I will never be able to breathe that sigh of relief, of success and joy.

And, yet, regardless of this appreciation for the miracle that is living, I’m not really doing it. I’m currently in a stage where I’m merely surviving, and just passing the days. I’m too weak to get out of bed, to do anything. I simultaneously feel everything, and nothing. I have insomnia, and can then sleep for 12+ hours. My entire body feels light headed and heavy. I’m starving, and have no appetite. I’m a bundle of contradictions.

I have no drive, and I’m not doing the work I should be. It’s a struggle to ever get out of the house, to ever see anyone. No one understands, though they think they do. Saying “you just have to ___”, “well when I had ___”, are you sure you can’t___”, or, “there’s no way it’s that bad” surprisingly isn’t actually understanding or helpful. And even if they did understand, how would that help? That would mean that they’ve felt it too. I feel selfish because I’d much rather help them than even think about myself, yet I’ve reached a point where I literally can’t do anything. I feel worse because I shouldn’t care about myself when others deal with such incredible challenges. Knowing their story is important so I can be there for them, but to know that others are suffering, is unfortunately not enough to make your life disappear.

Everyone who knows keep telling me I have so much courage and strength, that what I’m dealing with is so challenging that anyone would struggle, and I’m handling it better than I think. But they’re wrong. They make it sound like this is a brave choice that I’m noble to have made. But I don’t want this, and I can’t handle it. Any vestige of energy is quickly being sapped out of me by pretending when I absolutely have to that I’m OK. It’s even harder to go a step further and act like I’m actually happy.

They say that acceptance is the first step to recovery. But admitting I have a problem hasn’t been hard for me. I’m self-aware enough to recognize it, but that doesn’t give me any כוח or רצון to do anything about it. I recognize all the harm this is causing, and yet I still am not capable of doing anything to change it. And I wish I did.

I’m not strong. I’m miserable. I hate this situation, I hate what it’s doing to me, to my life, to the people around me…I’m sad. I’m struggling. I’m depressed.