Así es vivir con depresión | Gilraen ♡

You wake up, and you can't even move, because you weigh more than the scale says. The sun hasn't even risen yet, and you already want the day to end so you can go back to sleep and feel nonexistent. It's the only way to forget everything and make the hours pass quickly because you hope time heals all wounds, or so they say, and you discover it's the opposite. You don't understand why you're living if you don't want to. Life should be a choice, but everyone tells you to be grateful you woke up, and the truth is, you'd be more grateful if you'd never had to. Your body doesn't respond to you; you feel tired even in bed. Your voice is stagnant; maybe you speak, but you feel like you no longer belong to yourself. You've stopped giving orders, and someone else takes control of you and disconnects that link between your mind and body. And you don't even understand how you're going to explain this because how can they understand it? You can't even do it yourself. Before leaving, you put on a mask to help you survive that hell where there's never any sun and it's always winter. You pretend everything's fine because there's no point in expressing it—nobody cares! And if they ask, "How are you?" it's just routine; they don't really want to know, and it's better to stay quiet than risk being called crazy. The worst part is, you're afraid to believe it, so you force that grimace on your face that everyone calls a smile. The dictionary tells you that "smiling" is the result of joy, but in your case, it's the result of not wanting to look mentally ill in front of people. Some people think being depressed means spending the day crying, but when you're truly feeling it, crying becomes secondary because even crying doesn't make sense. You're just empty, a mask with no one inside. People look at you and think you're there, but you're never there. You feel detached from yourself, unable to even find yourself and bring yourself back. You start to wonder if you ever were anyone. You look at old photos, and it's impossible to remember what came before because now you're dead inside, even though you're still alive. The things that used to bring you joy are now insignificant because you don't mean anything anymore. "You're like this because you want to be." You've lost count of how many people have told you that, which is why you distance yourself from everyone to avoid idiotic comments where they think you're hurting yourself by choice, when there are two of you living in one body. You just want to run from whatever it is that controls you because you're fed up with yourself, with everything! And in self-defense, you end up hurting yourself with whatever's in front of you, thinking it'll go away. Sometimes it works, and you think you've won, but it comes back only for you to realize you're a fool and that you never won; you only mutilated yourself. You look in the mirror and see nothing but a mess, trash, scum. You want to scream, to ask for help, but what's the point? You don't even love yourself. It becomes a vicious cycle where you hurt yourself, you realize it, you regret it, but then you think you deserve it. Each day, fighting becomes a suicide attempt, a slow-motion movie where you don't have the courage to end your life, but neither do you have the courage to live it. "You're like this because you want to be." And maybe you're the one to blame for opening the door, for believing you were in control of everything, that these were just bad days and it would soon pass, but no! You were never in control of anything, now you're the mouse in the maze, unable to find the exit because you're not even good at that, and you cower in a corner, begging for it all to end and trying to remember what led you to this, but you can't even do that right! You don't know what's bothering you! You have everything! SO WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU MISSING? WHAT'S THE PROBLEM? "Living" You go to the doctor and he tells you to point to where it hurts. How do you explain that your soul hurts? He gives you a bottle of pills that will make you feel better, but they only keep you sedated, and far from helping, they make everything worse. You look at the calendar; three months have passed, and all you remember is being here within these four walls. WHY ISN'T IT WORKING FOR YOU? IS THE DOSE WRONG? And then you take another and another and... another. What could possibly be worse? Author: Gilraen Eärfalas ________________________________________ I made this video so you can understand what a depressed person feels and thinks. I suffered from depression at 15 years old as a result of being abused, but I can say with certainty that YOU CAN GET THROUGH THIS! I believe in you, just as you believed in me from the very first video. I know I'm not a professional at giving advice, but I hope I've helped even a little bit, a crumb of bread in your heart. Sending you my warmest hug. P.S. Don't hesitate to write to me. ♡ Find me: Facebook: Gilraen Eärfalas ✨ ...