When The Demons Appear, There Is No Hope

The last few days are lost on me. They slipped by, unrecognizable in my hazy gaze, obscured by the fog in my head that would not let me see the world for what it is, but only as that dark, heavy presence pressing down on me. I was stuck in the demons’ grasp and the only way out was escape into slumberworld…

Struggling with Demons, aka Depression
photo by Luis Llerena

I can function normally for months at a time when, all of a sudden, it hits me, and I’m down for the count, never knowing exactly how long the black hole will envelope me. Never knowing if I will emerge, free and clear, on the other side of it. Sometimes, not wanting to.

This time, my mental symptoms had physical manifestations, too. There was a malady to accompany my malaise, somehow verifying its existence, as the people I am closest to often don’t seem to accept the mental turmoil as a valid roadblock to living life. They want me to “get over it.” They expect me to “move on.” They tell me to “deal with it.” They have no idea that there’s a 2-ton boulder right in front of them, under the weight of which I am slowly collapsing. It’s invisible to them. They see no physical obstacles in my path; they feel it’s all in my head.

It is, but not in the way they can accept it. And this makes it hurt even more.

I’ve been asleep for 3 days. I’ve muddled through work. There because I have to be. Required to put on the normal face in order to pay the bills, ensure my children have medical care, keep the roof over our heads. And somehow, all that obligation makes it even worse.

But I’m still here… Floundering, but trying. I can’t be sucked in this time.

So I sleep… and hope that the nightmare will end and life will return to normal. It has to eventually, right?

 

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