A tiny piece of me dies whenever depression takes hold of me. A whispering voice says ‘that’s enough, give up now, you’re half dead anyway’. Suddenly death looks so attractive, so beautiful, so incredibly peaceful. I picture a graveyard at night. It’s foggy, it’s quiet. Never before have I experienced such tranquility. God, how I wish I belonged there. Another image is me walking beside a river holding hands with the one who I know for sure can bring me relief. Just holding hands, being perfectly okay in my own imperfection. How I want to be there.
Then reality hits me. I can’t go anywhere. People would get hurt. So I continue, one step in front of the other, one disappointment after the next, one ‘Sorry, I can’t deal with you’ after the other. Trapped inside this hell of the living. Where to go, what to do?
Breathe in, breathe out. The rest I will leave up to God.