I open my eyes and peer into the darkness. The darkness is deep and silent. This has been my world for so long I am not sure of how many days, months, years I have been here. It has become safe and comfortable here. I live in the bottom of a very deep, very dark, very isolated well. This is my home. This is my life. This is my depression.
I didn’t fall here all at once. Once upon a time I lived up on top among the others in the sunlight and the noise. Surrounded by activity and conversation. I participated in life. Now I live on the outskirts.
It happened gradually. One thing happened that made me stop and think and be sad. Then another, and another. People stopped asking if I was ok because they figure that you bounce back after a loss or change in your life. Things happen and you move on. But sometimes you are still carrying the burden of one loss when another lands on your shoulders. If enough are placed on you then it is hard to continue moving forward so you stop to rest. You truly believe that you will pick yourself up again and keep moving along with the rest of the world.
Sometimes you do but it is slower. You find that you aren’t picking your feet up as much. You start turning to avoid people who are happy or you don’t want to answer their questions or listen politely to their advice. So you turn and turn again. All this turning and dragging begins to dig your hole. The more it happens the deeper the hole. Continue long enough and you find yourself where I am, at the bottom of a very dark private well.
I’ve been in wells like this before. I know they exist because I create them. My past is scattered with them. Some are deeper than others. Some have rough sides and have been easy to climb out of while others have been smooth from so much wear escape has been harder. But I always get out.
Sometimes you will sit in your well looking up. If you are lucky you will see a friendly face pass by and they will give you a hand. Other times you need to call out for help. Someone will throw you a rope and help you climb out. I have jumped out, climbed out, reached for hands and gotten ropes to get out of wells. But I feel this well will be different.
I built this well slowly. I made my home here. But it is time to move. I am not jumping or calling for help. I looked up and saw the sunshine and that is where I choose to live. The walls of this well are rough. I can climb and I will climb. I want to climb. It will take longer to reach where I am going but it will make me stronger as I go. When I reach the surface I will feel strong and proud of what I have accomplished.
I stand in my well calm and excited to begin my journey. I may need to rest along the way but I am patient. This well has been different and the leaving of it will be as well. I can do it. I am ready. I have taken the first step. And the second.. I am coming back world. Are you ready for me?
If you suffer from depression, please seek out help from a professional. There is no shame in asking for help. No need to be embarrassed. Let someone offer you a hand or a rope or a ladder. We don’t need to live in our wells.
If you like what you have read please leave a tip so I can get a coffee or buy a new outfit for when I reach the sunshine. Thank you.
About the Creator
Writing can be therapy, insanity or both. Here is my mind, my dreams, my fears, my thoughts, my life laid bare to share with you. Enjoy the journey into what is at once my blog, diary and world, and don't forget to tip your guide.