…thunderstorm on the inside
I have become an expert at hiding my feelings. My heart is heavy from loss and my mind overwhelmed by thoughts. However, for those who don’t know me, or know me professionally, my façade says otherwise. I have become skilled at appearing calm and collected when I am actually falling to pieces.
My purpose in creating this blog is to share my story with others who are struggling with depression and anxiety. I wasn’t always the way I am today. I strongly believe you are shaped by your environment and the things you have been through. Environmental factors certainly trump the nurture in the nature vs. nurture conflict. You are a product of the good things that have happened, but you are also the product of the bad things. It seems to me that the bad are easier to remember.
I have recently decided to seek counseling for my problems and would like to share with anyone who will listen the change I will hopefully have over time as well as the knowledge I acquire. For many years I have been my own doctor in this fight to be normal. I thought that I could do this on my own and create my own change, but this monster that lurks inside of me never lets me get ahead. It is cliché, but I take one step forward and that monster ensures I take at least two steps back.
I am tired of feeling tired, angry, depressed, unappreciated, belittled, and overall like a failure who will never get anywhere in life. I have an unquenched thirst for being more than what I am and constantly seek to better myself when I don’t even know what I want or who I am. I am merely a dying dandelion whose seeds are blowing away in the wind, left only with a stem.
I hope that my words are of importance to someone out there. I have always felt like a shadow or a shell of a person; I am always that girl with the face that isn’t even familiar although we’ve met before.
I will leave this blog with the question that allowed me to realize just how depressed I have become. Recently I was asked to list the things I enjoy. I sat there in my chair, silent and perplexed, thinking. I struggled to name something, anything, even if it was a lie, just so I didn’t appear to be as crazy as I felt in that moment. I’m still not completely sure what I said, but I know that I should have some passion in my heart for something other than sleeping. And so my pursuit of happiness begins.