A poem that I wrote whilst I was in the very deepest midst of the darkest depression I have ever been in, The Great Depression of 2014/2015.
It Is (Today)
It’s the nothing that keeps me awake,
Sees me mute until my bones ache,
with frustrations that grant me a break,
from the numbness that won’t dissipate.
Want to scream until my lungs bleed,
consumed, until i can’t breath.
Want to feel my consciousness leave
me stranded, alone, to just be.
The grip of my fingers slip,
from my throat on down to my wrist,
and my stomach again starts to knot.
Memories, never forgotten…
As my nails pierce my skin,
No flitters, or trails nor notions.
Only flawed perceptions, emotions,
come sifting through the confusion
of my minds eye; the illusion.
When the voice in my head only hates,
reminding me of every mistake
that i have, and would’ve ever made.
A trail of destruction in its wake.
Like an old book thats worn, over-read.
With its pages all torn up and shred.
There’s no plot, no poem nor verse,
to keep me from sinking, submerged.
My mind inside is conspiring
against me as I lay crying.
I realise I’ve not taken a breath.
Drowning in the notion of death…
It can’t be suicide,
if you’re already dead inside…?
I breathe, I decide…
‘Today, I will survive.’
………. ………. ………. ……….. ………. ………. ……….. ………. ……….. ……….
It’s very difficult to read that. It’s difficult to comprehend exactly how I was feeling. I remember feeling a complete numbness, and yet at the same time, too much. Quiet and sullen on the outside, yet feeling like I was going insane on the inside. I remember the suicidal thoughts felt like a dripping tap that I just could not turn off. I was preoccupied with suicide. My brain was. It wasn’t me. It was the Depression.
It was around this time, early 2015 that I started reaching out to people. I realise now that I should have reached out to people before this point. It’s important that I remember just how deep my depression can get. Although, I had never been that depressed before… I can only be more mindful in the future.
I had a visit to the Crisis Team at the local hospital around the time that I wrote this. That visit, and what followed was the ‘switch’ that I needed to push me back into a more coherent frame of mind. And so it did. I found my strength again.