I never thought I’d see that day again; where I’d be sitting alone in the dark, at 04:45 am. Yet here I am. Sunday just beginning and I’m not able to sleep. I’m fighting to admit it, but I guess I just have to. I am suffering from depression; again. I don’t even know which round I’m in for now. Ninth? Tenth? Thirtieth?
I guess I just have to get used to it, ‘cause I just can’t seem to handle life very well. I guess some people just aren’t made for it. I wish I was though. I wish I didn’t have to rely on a little white pill just to get myself through the day; even though I am very grateful for said pill. Without it I just wouldn’t be here.
Yet, here I am – back in the boxing ring with Sven. Yeah, I gave my depression a name. Some of you might think it’s sad that I gave it a name. Or you may think I’m crazy. I probably am crazy. The thing is; I just don’t want my illness to just be something that can’t be defined, or something that’s seen as shameful. Because let’s face it; depression is seen as shameful. So; I’m removing the shame by giving it a name. It helps. Makes it more reachable, touchable somehow. I don’t know how to explain it really. I just hope someone out there might understand it.
So here we are, Sven and I; fighting our way through the night. He on one side, me on the other. The thing is; we’ll probably be fighting alongside each other for the rest of our lives; or my life, ‘cause let’s not sugar coat it; once I’m gone Sven will be to. That’s why a thing like suicide is so tempting for us with mental illness.
Because once I’m not here anymore, Sven will say ‘well, job’s done here!’, pick up his hat of the hatrack (Sven seems like a hat guy) and leave out the door, on the prowl for his next victim.
Doesn’t that make sense to you?
Oh well, I’m gonna try to get some shuteye now. Hopefully Sven is ready for some sleep to.