People describe it differently. Most people say it's like a mist or a fog that descends all around them. Some even describe it as being a darkness. Sure, at first, for me it was just like that. Then it changed. For the worse. I suppose the easiest way to describe it would be to say that where there is light, for those who are unaffected, there is darkness for the others. Sure, it would be far-fetched to assume that darkness is all there is, but sometimes, sometimes, it is all there is.
Sure, there are times when things are 'normal'. As normal as normal can be anyway. 'Glimmers of Hope' I guess you could call them. But, I believe, a perfect comparison could be made between the reaction I have to the Glimmers of Hope and something quite morbid. A lot of people reading this will be familiar with the notion of losing somebody close to them.
If it's not too painful, try to cast your mind back to a time you were grieving. A time where it was just too painful to think about or talk about, and especially too painful to allow yourself to be happy. Only, sometimes we can't help but let something make us happy. That's what we all yearn for after all.
Imagine a moment where you've been happy after that loss happened. Then you catch yourself smiling like you've never smiled before, reality hits you like a sledgehammer round the head. You remember what you lost. A pain hits you right in your chest. Lump in your throat. Stomach churning. You feel sick with guilt that you could have let yourself forget.
That's what it feels like when 'the darkness descends'. Only, with me, it's not a mist or a fog. It's like a thick dark grey plume of smoke. As if I'm in a room and there's a fire right outside the door. I can't see. I can't breathe. I'm literally choking. The walls are closing in to quick for me to try make them stop. There's nowhere to go either.
However, it's not all 'doom-and-gloom'. There are moments of inexplicable anger. Undisputed rage. Judging by my past, it would be easy to say where it all comes from, but the truth is... This much rage? The way it bubbles away inside of me, festers, in fact... That's another symptom of depression.
I guess it effects everyone in a different way.
Depression destroys people. Not only that, but it destroys families, marriages and relationships. It completely destroys lives. In fact, it ends them.
I know exactly when I'm starting to get stressed out to the point of breaking down and the room starts to fill up with smoke. My breathing increases along with my heart rate. My complexion lightens. My skin becomes pale and clammy. My palms become hot and sweaty. Every little sound is amplified until I am unable to distinguish anyone's voice.
An amount of un-required energy makes my body tremble. Adrenaline coursing through my veins, carried by around 8 pints of blood that my heart is frantically pumping around my body. I look down at my hands and it's only then that I realise they're clenched tight into fists, as well as my jaw. My lungs fill with air. The same air that I force out of my nose ten seconds later, all the while keeping my jaw clenched. Before I know it, my hand comes up.
Not to wrap my fist around someone's chin, but to wrap it around my hair and pull. Grab. Pull. Release. Grab. Pull. Release. Grab. Pull. Release. I've done it so much since my depression got this bad that I'm surprised I'm not bald in some spots by now. Sometimes when I've pulled and opened up my hand, a few hairs are left clinging to the skin around my fingers.
I know I should stop doing it before it's too late, but I can't. I don't even know I'm doing it until I see the strands of hair on my fingers. I suppose it's my very own personal comfort blanket.
People see me as being a miserable bastard, probably because I always seem to be in a mood. What they don't realise is, I don't mean to be. I can't help how I'm feeling. Ever since I can remember I've had this internal struggle going on. I try and fight it but to be quite honest, I don't even know what I'm fighting against! All I know is I've always felt like there was a part of me missing.
I don't trust people easily. In fact, I'm very sceptical of the intentions of anyone who approaches me. I've always been that way so I doubt it's anything to do with depression, though I bet it doesn't help the situation. I suppose the most appropriate word I could use to describe it would be 'paranoia'.
This paranoia effects my behaviour in more ways than I have the time or energy to express to you on paper right now. So I'll mention just two. It determines what seat I take on a bus, or in a room (if I choose to even get on a bus let alone sit down on it in the first place). It also inhibits my social skills. I mean, if I put my mind to it, I guess I could make friends easily. I just prefer not to. I don't let people in close enough to hurt me (of course, there have been exceptions, but just as my theory predicts, they've ended up hurting me - or I've beat them to it and hurt them before they could hurt me).
My therapist tells me that this kind of behaviour has been learned (I'm assuming as part of my primal survival instinct) and put to use as a defence mechanism to protect me from the things in my past. She's made me realise that these behaviours might not be needed as much as they used to be and that maybe I should find a way to tone them down a little. But it's just not that simple. Once the darkness descends, and the room has filled with smoke... Nothing. Nothing is simple.
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