Is it worth it to ask for help?
Is it worth it to try and try and fail every time?
Is it worth pouring your heart out, if you aren’t strong enough to handle rejection or silence? Or if your honest pleas for emotional support are met with nonchalance…because eventually you’ll be able to snap out of it? Or is it better to bottle it all up inside until you are certain you are going to explode from pure emotion? Is there a magic release valve so what I feel inside doesn’t make me feel like I’m going to implode on myself?
Is it worth taking a breath, when every breath is labored?
Is it worth getting out of bed, when every action you perform causes physical pain?
Is it worth it to work on my physical body, when I feel like I will never be beautiful or healthy enough? Is it worth it to try drug after drug to heal myself, when it leaves me feeling worse than before?
Is it worth trying to give an explanation, when you feel like everyone already has a firm judgment established about your situation?
Is it worth it when your sheer emotional pain is overshadowed by the guilt you feel for allowing your loved ones to strap on a seatbelt to face your emotional rollercoaster of hell, over and over until you’re sure you’re going to vomit from eMOTIONal sickness?
Is it worth it trying to go to sleep at night, when more of the hours you spend in bed are spent worrying instead of actually sleeping?
Is it worth it to go to therapy, learn and master the steps and tools which will lead to your recovery, only to be plagued with overwhelming feelings of despair and sadness and worthlessness?
Is it worth it to pray when it feels like your bedroom ceiling is plated with stainless steel and your desperate prayers are ignored by a God that is too busy to listen?
Have you ever wondered who will come to your funeral? Is it worth entertaining that fact when you feel like nobody cares? Does the thought of your death feel like it would leave the world in a less chaotic state?
I don’t know all these answers. But I know that I think about them a lot. I know the good people I have in life – the family, the friends, the ever increasing circle of influence I seem to acquire. But why do I always feel alone and misunderstood? How can I have a knowledge of my Heavenly Father’s plan, yet still feel like I’m going to be an exception to the rule? How do I get the help I need, when I feel like I’ve done everything in my power and knowledge to make myself better?
Why is depression so difficult to overcome? Is it possible to truly be healed of gaping hole I feel in my heart? Why am I my own worst enemy, setting myself up for failure with obstacle after obstacle on a course that I feel I’ll never be able to achieve? Why does the horrific abuse I’ve endured in my life pale in comparison to the mental anguish I can’t seem to stop inflicting on myself?
My depression tends to be cyclical. I’m really struggling right now, but I’ll bounce back and feel fine in a few days. If I’m lucky, I’ll feel fine in the morning.
But for tonight, permit me the chance to have a literary pity party, and allow the thoughts swirling around my head to be expressed and left to rest for the night. That’s what my blog is for.