Rise Again

     We come into this world as blank slates, capable of anything-- everything, and as we grow, there are a variety of things that shape us.  Our parents, our environment, the culture we are born into, and the world around us lend their hands toward creating the base for the person we might become.

     Gradually, we become aware as an individual, and we lend a hand toward crafting ourselves; The books we read, the shows we watch, the friends we choose, and the unique things our brains think each moment all strengthen and grow each individual personality.

     We go out into the world, and we acquire schooling, and jobs, and the weight of the world sometimes becomes a burden, and sometimes, the world sets us free in a way we didn't know was possible.

     We are constantly changing, constantly in a state of flux.  Our every next breath is not even assured to us, and yet, with a surprising amount of tenacity, we persevere.  We as a race rise again and again to fight head on against the things that would destroy us, and we laugh as we do so.

     Like the phoenix, we must either die or be reborn, and I, for one, will always choose to rise again, made anew at the trials I have faced, reborn into this world stronger and more beautiful for all the agonies I have endured.

Warrior: Redux

     I find it difficult... no, not difficult... I find it virtually impossible to admit when I'm not alright.  To admit that the world has torn me apart and I suddenly find myself so much less and so much smaller than before.  Especially when I've been slipping slowly into this state of mind, until I'm too far in to drag myself out without help, and feel too hopeless to ask those around me for the help that I so desperately need.
     I strive to continue to appear as others think I ought, and I struggle to force away the dark agony that slowly leeches itself into my soul... but sometimes, it's still too much.
     The world grows gray and cold in my eyes; my laugh is forced, my smiled is just a little too contrived, and it's a struggle to merely rise from my bed each morning.
     I desperately desire to feel anything but the despair that seeps through me, consumes me, but I find that in searching myself, I have nothing left but hollow hopes and shattered desires left within.
     Every breath seems like there's a possibility that it could be more effort than it might be worth.
     I consider the merits of merely staying in bed all day, and I wonder if anyone would notice... I wonder if anyone would find it in themselves to care.
     Then I worry about what any of those "anyones" would think if they could see how heavy the shadows hang on my heart, and I weigh how much I don't want to have that discussion, and I drag myself out of bed to face another day.
     My eyes are so heavy.  I move through the day in a perpetual fog.  My observations are limited to what will most easily get me through each personal interaction and most quickly return me to my home where I can do nothing; be no one.
     I think dark thoughts; half whispers and fragmented dreams best left to the demons in my shadowed soul.
     I wonder if I'll ever be truly happy again, or if the entirety of my being will now forever be the masks that I wear so seamlessly for others, until I no longer know who I am, bereft of them.
     I hate them irrationally, the others that I interact with, even as I play pretend and my eyes sparkle with forced mirth.  I hate that they can't see that I'm hurting, even as I hate myself for being unable to open up about it, clinging instead desperately to the veneer of normalcy.
     I pray simultaneously that no one will ever see the shreds of my soul, and that someone will look at me, and ask "What's wrong?"
     I cry for no reason, sobbing my grief where no one can see, even as through my tears I question what exactly it is that I'm grieving at all.
     What many find even harder to understand, however, is that there are windows of time where I'm alright.  Points where I can go out, be with friends, and do & feel things normally.   My depression, when I have it, isn't always 100% of the time, which in some ways makes it harder when it comes crushing back down.
     I don't want to feel this way.  I fight desperately each day for the ability to feel, all the while knowing that the days that I do win?  They're not guaranteed to be good days, but merely that they will be days that I feel as I ought, without a dark veil tossed over my emotions.
    I continue to fight valiantly, however, knowing that I can defeat this, even as it attempts to cripple me utterly.
     I'm on the upswing again, and every time I deal with depression, I get a little bit of a better handle on how to combat it, how to accept it as part of myself, and how to swim through the darkness to find the light again, and achieve my own balance.
    I'm not saying it's easy, and I'm not saying that I don't wish it were different.  Obviously, if I could not fight against myself mentally as far as depression goes, that would be great... but it's not going anywhere, and I'm here for the long haul, and I refuse to ever let it overwhelm me again.
     Sometimes the going is tough, but I remind myself, I can either drown in the ocean of shadow, or I can rise as a Valkyrie, and fight for my place in this world.  I am beautiful, and capable, and intelligent, and sometimes I need to remind myself that it is alright for me to tell myself that, and not feel as though it's egotistical.
     Depression is a real thing, and no one should feel like they can't admit when they're got it rough.  I'll never judge someone for this thing that I struggle valiantly against.  It's daunting to deal with by itself, but it begins to feel hopeless when you feel so isolated and alone that you're not sure how to endure.  Believe in yourself, believe in those closest to you, and know that it's never too late to open up, and to say, "I need help."