The struggle is real y'all

So I have read many post, articles, blogs etc. about depression and it always helps me to read others accounts. Makes me feel a little less alone, that maybe I am not a freak-crazy. So today I thought I would contribute my 2 cents. Tell my story so maybe someone else feels less alone. So here goes....

Depression sucks. No big surprise there right? It sucks the joy out of my soul and crushes hope as it tries desperately to fight back. It hurts in every single part of my body. It is the voice of doubt that tells me I am lazy when I can't get off the couch and take a shower even though it is now 3 in the afternoon. It tells me I am useless because my house is a mess and I can't do anything about it. It is the wall between me and self-care. Simply scheduling a hair cut when it is bad causes anxiety. Looking in the mirror I can't muster up the energy to fix my hair, put on make-up and even when I do I can't see any difference. I know all these are lies but the energy to fight back is sometimes more than I can manage. I feel so needy and desperate but the words will not come out. Help, I am drowning. Can't you see my head barely above water?

Depression makes grief so much worse. I believe in heaven. I know that someday I will see my loved ones again but the pain of the here and now is so strong I can't feel the hope. The waves of grief refuse to let me remember the memories and cling to them. I just miss them and I don't understand. There is no rationale strong enough to overcome.

I fight this battle daily. I take medicine. I should probably see someone. Maybe someday I will get the courage to pick up that phone and make an appointment. But for now I turn the music on. Turn it up, I mean way UP. Thankful for a moment that I live in a house and my neighbors can't hear. I sing as loud as I can and slowly my spirits lift. I sing to the heavens and pray and God hears. I know he does because I can feel the fog lift from my brain. I feel hope breaking through the walls. I answer a phone call. I even send out a text. Huge accomplishment even though it may seem small. And I write. Sometimes here and other times on paper. I bleed out all my pain and the wounds close. It may not make sense to anyone else but this is what I do. And I sleep. Because tomorrow is a new day.