So I'm back.
So I haven't written in almost a month. It's been a rather rough month, for lots of reasons.
For as long as I can remember, I've sunk into random spells of depression occasionally. It's scary, because it runs in my family, and because I never know what to do about it or how to stop it from happening.
Well, that's what happened to me this month. This was the worst depressive spiral I can ever remember having. I've never wanted to hurt myself before, I've never felt quite this alone, I've never really truly felt like I couldn't get through it. I've never cried myself to sleep this much.
And nothing helped, either. Not the massive amounts of alcohol and various types of mind-alterinng substances. Not the sad music, or the happy music, or the hard rock, or the blues, or the jazz. Nothing. Not the dull pocketknife in my drawer.
I don't know what changed all of a sudden that I was able to pull myself out of it. I'm glad I could, though. I was really scared, like my life was just going and going and I was just an observer, powerless to take part or to stop the spinning. But then I did. Thank God.
The funny part is that I never questioned God all through this. I've done that before, wondered if God really existed when I've had these spells. But this time I didn't. God was there, every second, but I don't quite know how He fit into this whole thing. I don't know if He is the one who pulled me out. Maybe He was. Who knows?
I know I scared other people, too, with my behavior and moods. I'm sorry for that, but I didn't care. I just couldn't concentrate on anything but the black cloud that was always threatening to swallow me up. Sometimes, this past month, I wished that I had the strength to allow that cloud to swallow me up.
I really am doing better now, though. The scars are going away, and I can sleep now. I've caught myself enjoying life. It's gonna be okay. Breathe. It'll be alright.
For as long as I can remember, I've sunk into random spells of depression occasionally. It's scary, because it runs in my family, and because I never know what to do about it or how to stop it from happening.
Well, that's what happened to me this month. This was the worst depressive spiral I can ever remember having. I've never wanted to hurt myself before, I've never felt quite this alone, I've never really truly felt like I couldn't get through it. I've never cried myself to sleep this much.
And nothing helped, either. Not the massive amounts of alcohol and various types of mind-alterinng substances. Not the sad music, or the happy music, or the hard rock, or the blues, or the jazz. Nothing. Not the dull pocketknife in my drawer.
I don't know what changed all of a sudden that I was able to pull myself out of it. I'm glad I could, though. I was really scared, like my life was just going and going and I was just an observer, powerless to take part or to stop the spinning. But then I did. Thank God.
The funny part is that I never questioned God all through this. I've done that before, wondered if God really existed when I've had these spells. But this time I didn't. God was there, every second, but I don't quite know how He fit into this whole thing. I don't know if He is the one who pulled me out. Maybe He was. Who knows?
I know I scared other people, too, with my behavior and moods. I'm sorry for that, but I didn't care. I just couldn't concentrate on anything but the black cloud that was always threatening to swallow me up. Sometimes, this past month, I wished that I had the strength to allow that cloud to swallow me up.
I really am doing better now, though. The scars are going away, and I can sleep now. I've caught myself enjoying life. It's gonna be okay. Breathe. It'll be alright.