You will never understand this until you experience it.
You will think that you can imagine it
You will blame my mood on ego and you will tell me at least once ‘to snap out of it’
You will question me relentlessly as to the source of my pain
I cannot get over it and I have no answers and if I had the answers I would feel better because then at least I could rationalize this impenetrable sadness that floors me every time.
You will advise me
You will say in frustration ‘Take a damn pill’
I will tell you that the drugs only take the edge off, that they leave me functioning on autopilot, that I may as well be a zombie because there is nothing in me that feels on them and I need to feel
There are days where I find it hard to get out of bed
I don’t feel sick
Sad to the point that nothing helps
The joke you heard at work is not going to cut it – it wasn't that funny then and it sure as hell isn't funny now
And if I was functioning I would laugh for you
I would laugh for you
But today I can’t
I am beyond the laughter – it eludes me
I know you are trying
I appreciate that you try
I want to care
I want to be better for you
I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t
I am consumed by thoughts that leave me cold
I will consider suicide at least three times today
I don’t want you to worry because I won’t do it
There is still enough reason in me that suicide has not become a viable option
Instead I will sit in my pajamas and pretend to watch TV
If I can muster the will perhaps I will clean the floor obsessively – it’s what I do when I feel like the world is spinning out of control
I can’t stop war but I can clean up
There is no bandage for this
You cannot put a plaster on it or stitch it up
The wound is not open
I know that is frustrating
I know that to you it does not make sense
Maybe it’s not meant to
Maybe this is just how I am wired
I’m not weak.
I’m not stupid.
I’m not narcissistic.
Most days I’m pretty average – funny even
I’ve hit a low point.
I felt it coming with the change of season
I know it’s here when I start waking up early
I lie in bed and listen to the first birds chirping
And I will myself to sleep
But I can’t
And I can’t get up either
And I want to be sick
And I want to be someone else who doesn’t wake up in tears
And making the bed is so final
Such a commitment to get up and make the bed because once it’s done then what?
Who am I fooling?
With that perfectly made bed
When I feel so incredibly empty
So I have skimmed the surface
I will spare you the really dark stuff
You will read this and maybe you’ll give up on me
And maybe I want you to
Because it’s easier than having to answer you every time you say
What can I do?
Who has upset you?
It will be okay.
And sometimes I lie to you and I tell you I’m fine and that I will be okay
Because the look on your face breaks my heart
And the truth is
I’m just trying to get through it myself
And I don’t have the answers
I’m still here aren’t I?