Standing on the Edge

Most of the time I don't just wake up depressed. I know it's coming. Like a big black hole waiting to devour me.  Waiting, just sitting there patiently as I'm pulled uncontrollably closer and closer. And while I'm pulled I get to see all the things I'm going to miss while I'm in that hole: Time with my family. Time with my friends. Doing things I enjoy. Just enjoying the normal daily things.

That hole doesn't care, it just waits. I fight the only way I know how: By grabbing onto to the people closest to me. Unfortunately for me, it looks to them like I'm attacking them. That's because I'm just flailing myself around, trying desperately to find a way to stop the march. I strike out, reaching for a hand to grab onto, hoping to stop the fall. I yell, I scream, hoping to draw attention somehow to my fear of the hole and get help that way. Maybe if someone else sees the hole, it will disappear, like a monster under the bed.

But it doesn't stop, and no one recognizes my cries for help. I only hurt others as I get dragged down into the hole, scraped raw myself and bleeding from the heart and soul. Now I have to live here, in the darkness. I don't know how long the hole will keep me. Sometimes it's a few days, sometimes it's longer. It's lonely, dark, and scary. No one on the outside knows I'm in the hole because I look like I'm still there, just more difficult to talk to, more withdrawn, less able to function. That's because the real part of me is trapped, and I can't get out until I'm released. No begging, pleading, bribing, or threatening will do it. It's just when the hole decides to open.

And when it opens I can come out, like a person coming from a dark room into bright sunlight, unsure of their surroundings, sensitive to the light, to touch, to sound, to even smells. It's actually painful to come out of the hole at first, because everything in my body feels on high alert. Gradually, though, my brain feels the safety of solid ground, loving family and friends, even a regular routine.

And then the all clear sounds, and I realize my heart and soul have stopped bleeding and don't hurt to the touch. I can take a deep breath without pain. I can hear words without wincing. I can see the sunlight without squinting.

I can't see the hole anywhere. So for now I'm safe.