The unlived life is not worth examining -Sheldon Kopp

It Could Be Depression

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There was a time when reading used to make everything better for you. From fixing your broken heart, shortening a lengthy day, cooling your nerves just before an important interview and even uplifting your lowly moods. Those days, you could be passing through hell and not even realize it because books offered you a nice escape, to beautiful shores, Rocky Mountains, deserts whose air was laden with too much dust you wanted to cover your eyes with your hands by just reading about them. These days, you hardly enjoy a book. As a matter of fact, you are finding it increasingly hard to pick a book and start reading. Every time you talk yourself into reading one, you barely go through the first ten pages before the over powering urge to stop comes again. There are ten books all book marked at page ten that you have started to read in this past week alone but couldn’t go beyond the tenth page. You don’t get the kick you used to get from reading anymore. You have tried movies but realized every time you start watching one, your thoughts wander. The movie plays on till the end only for you to realize you have no idea what the movie was even about.

You can’t read, you can’t watch a movie, and as if this is not enough, you can’t seem to fall asleep at night. On those nights when you fall asleep, you can’t stay asleep for more than two hours. And on those days (which is every day by the way) you have nothing to keep you company apart from your own thoughts. You realize you would give anything just to run away from this hopelessness that has descended upon your world.
Three quarters of the time you are lying in your bed turning, tossing and even then, you don’t want to get out of that very bed where you lie gazing into space. Every time you push yourself to get up, the farthest you get is to the bathroom. Just to empty your bowels and pee, take a really quick shower on the day when you feel it is absolutely necessary, serve yourself a mountain of food and sit on the bed that you last made two weeks ago, and eat all that food. You have added a few inches to your waist, the clothes hug your body more, three skirts are threatening to burst at the seams. You know you are headed for obesity but that is the least of your worries now.

You know you are supposed to feel better in the morning but all days are the same old and dull to you. You feel as lonely on Friday nights as you feel every Monday morning. Your friends no longer call. They are tired of the lack of enthusiasm on your voice when you finally choose to answer their calls. You have missed friendship re unions with no explanation and they are tired of trying to pull you down from your high horse. Your mother has made peace with the fact that you are going to call home once in a blue moon. She is okay if you are okay.  You don’t care about social media any more. You are tired of running into your ex everywhere in these streets of face book. You are tired of trying to tell yourself that he doesn’t deserve you. Probably you are the one who doesn’t deserve him with your body looking like a roto tank with all the eating you have been doing.

You feel so empty; you have a pain that you can’t even describe. You slap yourself. You want to feel physical pain. You wish for someone to come and beat you up. Or even for a matatu to run over you, break a limb, break something in your body, leave you in a coma where you will lie and wake up and scream over a physical pain.

You know whatever is happening to you is not even normal. You are in a place to the extreme left of sadness. If you could walk even a little bit, then walk yourself to the bus station and ask them to drop you at a hospital gate. Because you are depressed and if it is going to get worse, you will commit suicide…

Most of your friends aren’t even going to realize that you are depressed. If anything, they will accuse you of all sorts of things. Maybe we can’t blame them. We live in a society that has taught us that it is okay to be unhappy. That we don’t even deserve too much happiness. That we can’t blame anything in our lives for the feelings that we feel.

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3 Comments on "It Could Be Depression"

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Ari Martha
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So relatable.

Terry
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Woow…Nice one.
Been through a lot and being unhappy becomes the lifestyle.”you have added a few inches of your waist”😋…I should see my life.