Love This Pain

Addiction.

/əˈdikSH(ə)n/ noun. the fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing, or activity.

It’s difficult to quit an addiciton. Some say it’s impossible. People go to meetings, they talk about their struggles. What it’s like not to be able to go places or talk to certain people. They must stay away from temptation.

But what happens when your drug is inanimate? What happens when it’s all in your head and there is nothing you can do to shut the noise off. To quiet the drone of you’re not worth it, nobody cares, just give up now, no one will miss you. You could go to therapy or take medication. I have heard that works, but I cannot personally vouch for that.

I have found happiness in life, though. I am figuring out just how wonderful life can be, and I can barely hear the voices. They don’t scream at me anymore. It’s an inaudible whisper, and I don’t stop to try ot decipher what they are saying. It is not worth it to. I am much happier not bothering with it because I would rather enjoy the sunshine and the butterflies flitting around because it’s spring and the flowers blooming in every planter I walk by. It is so much easier to forget about the bad when I have all these good things in my life.

I have my days and moments where I slip backwards and feel like I am drowning. They are absolutely terrible, and it throws me back to thoughts of “well, if I cannot stay happy, then why should I stay living?” Those moments are some of the hardest I have to go through because it is exhausting to pull myself out of that black hole and remind myself that life is worth it.

You guys have heard all about that, though. You guys don’t hear much about my good, wonderful, fabulous days. I talk about them, but not that often. I don’t know, maybe I am too happy to write about them. Maybe it is because nobody wants to know about how happy someone is all the time. People want to read about tragedy. (A total exaggeration, but you know what I mean.)

But here’s the thing that happens to me when I am happy-go-lucky and loving life. The sun shines on my skin and it is the best feeling in the world. The smell of the flowers that now makes my eyes water and nose tingle is still life-giving. I want to cry tears of utter joy when I watch the sky turn a million colors for the sunset. I think about spinning in circles and dancing around to the music in my head. The smallest things remind me why I have chosen life. The big things make me stop and thank the Lord for all the amazing things he has blessed me with. I am truly thankful for it all.

But when I log onto the blog and begin scrolling through the various blogs of the day on my feed or poetry Instagrams, Twitters, Tumblrs, etc and the way that some people can so beautifully describe depression. They can almost romanticize it, and it makes me miss those overwhelming thoughts that trap me in Darkness. So much so that I can talk myself into the stomach-churning Bad Thoughts that make me cry to the point where my head is about to explode and I am left dry-heaving into the toilet and I squeeze my fingers against my scalp trying to pull my hair out. It is ugly and awful…but it is home. For so long, those actions were all I knew.

I almost feel ashamed reading those blogs or poems and being able to still identify so much with them. I still feel every little sting. I hate to say that it feels good.

Depression is my drug. I do not know if there is a better or more accurate way to describe it. I was addicted to the way it made me feel without realizing it, and I still find some sort of sick comfort in the Darkness. I wish I didn’t, but I can’t help it. It is difficult to live sometimes: to smile all the time, make happy conversation, stay interested in daily gossip. It is so easy to just curl up in my bed and not move from the same cuddled position for hours on end, not speaking to anyone for whole days. I wonder if my voice still works. There were holes in my heart that depression lived in. Filling those spaces is a journey I chose to embark on, but it has not been as simple as smiling and acting happy (I don’t know why people think that is the magical solution).

When your drug is inanimate, it is impossible to completely stay away. The temptation lives inside you. I have a backwards love for that unbearable pain, but I work every day to resist it. I know it is better this way, and I will continue to be better.

I am better than this addiction, than this drug, than this pain.

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One thought on “Love This Pain

  1. I really relate to this post. I had severe depression for 13 years, because of my parents’ abusive behaviour during their divorce, and there were so many times I wanted to kill myself. I ended up with a carving knife at my throat about to cut my throat but I was interrupted. But I always had the tiniest bit of hope that maybe things could be better so I took myself into therapy. After 3 years of therapy the severe depression lifted. Then after my mother got into a horrendous state after multiple strokes I became suicidal again and was trying to kill myself with my cocaine addiction and bulimia. I got clean at the beginning of 2005 and the love I experienced from total strangers in rehab, so different from my parents, was instrumental in lifting the depression. Now all my mental health problems and addictions are in recovery and I am happier and more peaceful than I have ever been. My whole life since the age of 7 has been blighted by mental health problems but now I am free and sane for the first time. I feel like my life is just beginning!

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