Everything is Not Okay

Weighted Down…that’s the only way I can fully describe the feeling in my soul. I know that sounds melodramatic and most of you are probably thinking here comes the drama queen, but it is the honest truth – I feel this heaviness, this weight in my soul, that I’m not sure I know another way to describe it.  

I’ve written about depression before. I’ve talked about how it manifests itself in my life. I’ve described the darkness. But I haven’t lately … and you know why, because this time I didn’t stop the darkness when I felt it creeping in. This time I let it totally consume me. I let it invade every empty space in me and just take over.

I am terrified to write this post. I’ve actually started and stopped more times than I care to admit. Why? Because this post is real. This post brings the walls down and it says to people, this, this is who I really am. There are no more pretenses, no more masks, and no more games…just me. I’m terrified of what people will say, I’m terrified of their reactions…but I think I’ve finally hit the point where I’m more terrified of what ignoring it is doing to me. So here I am…This is me.

I have given up.

I’m not sure when it happened. I can’t pin point for you the exact moment I just threw up my hands and said I’m done. My hubs and maybe one close friend could identify it better than I. But it happened, and when it happened I went back to doing what I do best – faking it. Just going through the motions. It has served me well in the past and it is comfortable for me. I know what is expected of me. I know what people like and want to see and hear – so I oblige. “Yes, I’m doing great.” “Just taking it one day at a time.” Blah, blah, blah … When the reality is I am barely surviving, actually some days I’m really not even surviving. But it’s easier to say I’m fine. It’s less messy.

But I made a promise to myself 2 years ago that I wasn’t going to be okay with fake. I was going to dive into the messy and let it be what it is regardless of what people say or think. I was going to talk about the hard, talk about the unpleasant, talk about the darkness, talk about the mess. But somewhere along the way it got too hard. But I have a friend who asked me some really hard questions this weekend. One of which was why am I letting my mom’s disease destroy my marriage…destroy me? Touché. It was actually a hard pill for me to swallow. But one I needed to hear.

I have let this disease devastate me. I have let it steal from me. It is already stealing my mother, but I realized that it is stealing my joy too.

People don’t talk about depression. They don’t talk about anxiety. It’s too messy. I get that. I also get that the internet does not need my words regarding the subject. But I need to write them. I need people to understand what it feels like. I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety before.  I’ve had the moments where I felt like driving my car into oncoming traffic. This time it’s different. This time it just feels heavy. I struggled to really recognize it at first. It felt normal to be feeling overwhelmed with all that we are dealing with. But I didn’t realize how bad it was getting until I was too far gone.

This heaviness makes it hard to breathe. It makes it hard to function. I have so much on my plate that I just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Get up, go to work, go to school, go back to work, go home, smile and nod, go to bed, start again … But I don’t feel anything … but numb. When I do feel something, I feel it so dramatically, so intensely, so disproportionately that it scares everyone around me.

I worry constantly. But this time is different… I know the problems are there. I know there are decisions to be made, things to do and I. just. Don’t. care.

I’m tired. Tired of feeling anything and everything…just tired.

That’s messy isn’t it? It’s hard. No one wants to hear it. We all know it’s out there but we just want people to grin and bear it. We want them to smile and nod because that is comfortable to us.

After a really bad day this week, someone made the comment to me that every day is a good day for them. Regardless of their struggles, they choose to make it a great day. I wish it was that easy for me. But it’s not and no matter how well-meaning you are trying to be, your telling me about how awesome you are does nothing for me, except make me feel guilt about not being as good as you. So I want to be the voice that tells people it’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to be tired, to be scared, to be done … but I also want to be the voice that tells people it will get better. I haven’t figured out how yet, but I believe it has to be.

Somehow in the messiness of this life I’ve lost me. But I am going to find myself again, I’m going to find my way back and I’m going to be better than I was before and once I’m back I’m going to spend my life telling people that it does get better and that even when it doesn’t you are still going to be okay.