The
lows have been too low for the past two weeks. I have dragged myself out of bed
every morning and have run my days like a zombie. Like the ground isn’t capable
of holding my weight, I have lain down from being lightheaded. My functionality
has been at the bare minimum, unable to stretch, my concentration is like that
of a 5 year old, only difference play was off the table.
The
dreaded moment is here; close to three years of sanity seem to be slamming the
door at my face. Walls are carving in and everything in me is just exhausted,
stretched beyond comfort. I had a depression relapse and it’s all coming back,
a feeling I don’t wish even for the least of my friends. Its slow and draining,
capturing you from the blues, when you least expect and takes away all the will
power and zeal for life.
I’ve
dubbed myself a depression survivor for a long time because, for as long as I
haven’t had a relapse, it seemed as a thing of the past. Sometimes, the past
creeps back in the dead of night and engulfs my entire being. Making me doubt
if I was ever well to start with. My joints are sore, hands weak and legs can
no longer hold my weight, they have given in to the weight of the world.
With
the physical bodily strain, I hoped against all hope that that is all it was, a
physical illness. Malaria was my closest bet. Malaria does this too, it can
make your muscles feel sore but the female anopheles mosquito hasn’t gotten to
me this time. I made it but was instead caught out by the darkness. The dark
cloud covered my head and stopped me from moving, from seeing the beauty that
is life.
You
think there’s stigma surrounding some physical ailments, wait till you meet
people conversing about someone dealing with a mental illness. The undertones,
the side eye look and the emotive smile tells it all. The victims have to deal
with the fact that their bodies have given up on them under the weight of the
harsh world.
Adele's "Should
I give up or just keep chasing pavements, even if leads nowhere.” Is the song on replay. I choose to keep chasing, to live.
I
am still hopeful that I’ll see a brighter day, a day when the ache and the pain
will be long gone, when concentrating will no longer be an uphill task. When
I’ll no longer feel the need to isolate myself, when my feeding and sleeping
patterns will be consistent and predictable. If and when this day will not
come, I have peace in my soul and know that it shall be well.
