DistantOcean
Well-known member
Mourning without a cause
While I briskly open my eyes I start to feel the heaviness of life weighing down on me. The sudden, transient experience of being lifted into reality always leaves me wondering why the contrast has to be so tremendous. In dreams I often soar through the sky effortlessly, observing quietly as new scenes unfold in front of my mind’s eye. Whenever a problem arises there is always a way out. In the real world my head feels continuously clouded by a dark presence. As if the will to move forward is extracted from my being at some point. My depression feels leaden. It seeps through my bones and permeates straight into the darkest corners of my soul. I am shrouded in darkness. As if a Dementor is permanently following my every move. At least I can still forget my sorrows now and then by dozing off. If only I could escape to the past, where days are brighter.
How can there be so much pain and misery in life? I am still existing, but all that remains is a shell. I am dead inside. And only a faint shimmer of hope remains. I am a lost soul, a wanderer, an island which slowly drowns in a continuously rising ocean. Only my silhouette remains. Somehow I’d wish that was an understatement.
I always try to stay positive but lately its getting harder and harder to find reasons to stay alive. I am living in a world devoid of meaning, a world without light, a world without mercy. Can I stop existing now? I’ve got the weight of the world on my shoulders here. Am I doomed to a life not worth living?
Every day is a struggle. A concatenation of empty moments. Trapped in my own body. The people around me ostensibly have it easy. They have no problems with killing time. For me it’s been three years since I last enjoyed anything. Now activities seamlessly coalesce while the same oppressive, disheartened feeling lingers in the stillness which conceals the depths of my being. Why can’t I care more about things? Everything seems so pointless and unengaging… Sometimes I’d rather lay in bed with my eyes closed just letting my mind roam freely, pondering over whatever thoughts pop up into my head. But then again even that gets a bit tiresome after a while. Now my future looks bleak, especially from my perspective. What remains of life if you can’t enjoy anything? What is it that you’re then still living for? To preserve the untainted memories? That’s a cruel thought. I wonder if I can still recognize what it is like to feel happy.
The only thing that drowns out my feelings of anhedonia are periods of extreme fatigue. At such moments I feel as though I have just ran a marathon. A feeling which paralyzes me to the bone. But most of all it makes me feel empty. And it makes me wonder how long this sufferfest will last. This world sucks! There is literally nothing worth getting out of bed for. All satisfaction is gone. The little things that used to bring me joy are now worthless. Nothing makes me happy. I am living in my own private section of hell fighting an enemy which seemingly has no weaknesses.
My life wasn’t always like this. The good memories I carry along with me are painful though. Due to the contrast with my current state they make me even more aware of the inescapable misery which surrounds me. I am still not able to use these reflections from the past as a source of hope. Only a brief longing wells up within me when I tread in the past. A sudden, vivid realization that life was once beautiful. Usually the little things, the tiny fleeting moments which barely can be captured are what comes to mind. Exploring the narrow irrigation channels of the numerous banana tree plantations on the Canary Islands with my dad, as a kid. Legs dangling from the chairlift at the start of a long mountain walk in Switzerland. Or the choice between a Solero and a Magnum on a sunny beach day.
My loved ones do not know what it is like to be depressed. They do not understand the feeling. That nagging, heavy, dreadful barrage of darkness. It is as if your mind is shrouded in a miasmic fog. Depression is like water. At first, in all its stillness, many would fail to recognize its unrelenting abrasive nature. In my darker moments I tend to compare my situation with getting pulled under water just long enough to be able to gasp for air again, in a continuous loop. It is somehow impossible to stay afloat. Depression is as if you are stuck in a dark tunnel, not knowing whether there is light at the end. This feeling lingers, it chips away at your mind, slowly, unrelenting. The dread clouds your brain like fog. It makes it impossible to think happy thoughts.
The road to recovery is tough when you are treatment-resistant. ‘Long’ structured days, a lot of exercise, mindfulness and managing your social network. Thus far it seems that whatever I do it’s just not enough. An intense workout regimen of lifting weights four times per week while eating healthy did just about as much in lifting my depression as Trump did for containing Corona during the start of this pandemic. At the moment I love to oversleep in order to avoid the suffering which the day brings. Also my dreams are the only place where I feel comfortable. Strangely enough, in this illusory world, I can still enjoy activities which in real life I wouldn’t give a second glance. I just don’t want to move on anymore. I wonder how long I will meander before I end it all. Will I be able to make something of this life? I guess only time can tell.
While I briskly open my eyes I start to feel the heaviness of life weighing down on me. The sudden, transient experience of being lifted into reality always leaves me wondering why the contrast has to be so tremendous. In dreams I often soar through the sky effortlessly, observing quietly as new scenes unfold in front of my mind’s eye. Whenever a problem arises there is always a way out. In the real world my head feels continuously clouded by a dark presence. As if the will to move forward is extracted from my being at some point. My depression feels leaden. It seeps through my bones and permeates straight into the darkest corners of my soul. I am shrouded in darkness. As if a Dementor is permanently following my every move. At least I can still forget my sorrows now and then by dozing off. If only I could escape to the past, where days are brighter.
How can there be so much pain and misery in life? I am still existing, but all that remains is a shell. I am dead inside. And only a faint shimmer of hope remains. I am a lost soul, a wanderer, an island which slowly drowns in a continuously rising ocean. Only my silhouette remains. Somehow I’d wish that was an understatement.
I always try to stay positive but lately its getting harder and harder to find reasons to stay alive. I am living in a world devoid of meaning, a world without light, a world without mercy. Can I stop existing now? I’ve got the weight of the world on my shoulders here. Am I doomed to a life not worth living?
Every day is a struggle. A concatenation of empty moments. Trapped in my own body. The people around me ostensibly have it easy. They have no problems with killing time. For me it’s been three years since I last enjoyed anything. Now activities seamlessly coalesce while the same oppressive, disheartened feeling lingers in the stillness which conceals the depths of my being. Why can’t I care more about things? Everything seems so pointless and unengaging… Sometimes I’d rather lay in bed with my eyes closed just letting my mind roam freely, pondering over whatever thoughts pop up into my head. But then again even that gets a bit tiresome after a while. Now my future looks bleak, especially from my perspective. What remains of life if you can’t enjoy anything? What is it that you’re then still living for? To preserve the untainted memories? That’s a cruel thought. I wonder if I can still recognize what it is like to feel happy.
The only thing that drowns out my feelings of anhedonia are periods of extreme fatigue. At such moments I feel as though I have just ran a marathon. A feeling which paralyzes me to the bone. But most of all it makes me feel empty. And it makes me wonder how long this sufferfest will last. This world sucks! There is literally nothing worth getting out of bed for. All satisfaction is gone. The little things that used to bring me joy are now worthless. Nothing makes me happy. I am living in my own private section of hell fighting an enemy which seemingly has no weaknesses.
My life wasn’t always like this. The good memories I carry along with me are painful though. Due to the contrast with my current state they make me even more aware of the inescapable misery which surrounds me. I am still not able to use these reflections from the past as a source of hope. Only a brief longing wells up within me when I tread in the past. A sudden, vivid realization that life was once beautiful. Usually the little things, the tiny fleeting moments which barely can be captured are what comes to mind. Exploring the narrow irrigation channels of the numerous banana tree plantations on the Canary Islands with my dad, as a kid. Legs dangling from the chairlift at the start of a long mountain walk in Switzerland. Or the choice between a Solero and a Magnum on a sunny beach day.
My loved ones do not know what it is like to be depressed. They do not understand the feeling. That nagging, heavy, dreadful barrage of darkness. It is as if your mind is shrouded in a miasmic fog. Depression is like water. At first, in all its stillness, many would fail to recognize its unrelenting abrasive nature. In my darker moments I tend to compare my situation with getting pulled under water just long enough to be able to gasp for air again, in a continuous loop. It is somehow impossible to stay afloat. Depression is as if you are stuck in a dark tunnel, not knowing whether there is light at the end. This feeling lingers, it chips away at your mind, slowly, unrelenting. The dread clouds your brain like fog. It makes it impossible to think happy thoughts.
The road to recovery is tough when you are treatment-resistant. ‘Long’ structured days, a lot of exercise, mindfulness and managing your social network. Thus far it seems that whatever I do it’s just not enough. An intense workout regimen of lifting weights four times per week while eating healthy did just about as much in lifting my depression as Trump did for containing Corona during the start of this pandemic. At the moment I love to oversleep in order to avoid the suffering which the day brings. Also my dreams are the only place where I feel comfortable. Strangely enough, in this illusory world, I can still enjoy activities which in real life I wouldn’t give a second glance. I just don’t want to move on anymore. I wonder how long I will meander before I end it all. Will I be able to make something of this life? I guess only time can tell.
