Depression is a Liar

 
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My healthy mind knows that there is always hope, always a light in the dark, but my depressed mind feels like the light has gone out.


My depressed mind can't find the hope, can’t see the newness of each morning, wishes there was no new morning.


Depression feels like I'm drowning. I'm at the bottom of a well of self despair, the sides are too slick to climb out and there is no one to rescue me. Depression says they wouldn't even if they could, because I'm too much for this world, too much for the people in it.


Depression calls me a liar, a hypocrite. It tells me to shut up and stop sharing my heart, it's too broken to be of any use any way. It tells me to stop writing, stop sharing about my emotions, they are too big, too often, too much.


Depression tells me I'm not happy, then shows me all the reasons I should be happy. Then tells me how awful I am for not being happy.


Depression tells me I feel too deeply, love too fully. Depression says life would be easier if I could care just a little less, then calls me wrong because I care too much.


My depression tells me I am attention seeking and unworthy of affection. It tells me to push people away because I'm just causing problems anyway.


My depressed mind becomes blinded by the brightness of hope. It shuts off the ability to find the good and can not see the blessings all around me.


Depression is like a black hole. Sucking good and hope and beauty from the space around itself. Depression speaks lies, telling me there is no good, no hope, no reason for life.


Depression says life is too hard, I'm not doing enough, and could never do enough to make life less hard.


Depressions says my efforts are not enough or too much but never just good. It says I try too hard then when I take a break for myself, it tells me I'm lazy.


Depression is a magnifying glass. It focuses on the little things and makes them huge. It distorts life's small challenges, turning them into mountains of indescribable burdens, never to be climbed, moved or gone around.


Depression turns big disappointments into personal attacks on what I could have done better or dealt with differently.


Depression tells me I'm all alone. It reminds me of all the times I've reached out for help and tells me I can't reach out again. I'm an inconvenience and should be over it already. I must wage this battle by myself. Depression shuts me up when I try to say my people love me and want to help me. It tells me I've already cried too many times.


Depression feels right. I should be done crying. I should be over my losses. I should be thankful for my life and the things in it.


Depressions makes me feel inconsiderate and ungrateful. I should myself over and over, I should feel happy, I should be thankful, I should feel blessed. But depression tells me I'm not.


Depression tells me to eat, then points out how weak I am for shoving food down my throat to in turn shove the emotions further down.


Depression tells me I'm not good enough and could never be good enough for love, hope, survival.


Depression overshadows truth. It screams at all the facts I know in my heart and says "not for you". It tricks me into believing life would be better for everyone else if I didn't exist, if I never existed.


Depression is a thief. It steals the days with sleep and the nights with sleeplessness. It takes joy and replaces it with fear and unworthiness.


Depression is a black cloud seeping into sunny days and covering it with is dark, sticky, tar of self doubt, pity and overwhelming sadness.


Depression rules when it is here. It is a force that can't be fought. It is a power too big for my body to overtake, an enemy too powerful for my mind to fight.


Most days I make it through, clinging to the small truths my healthy mind desperately tries to remind me, but some days the darkness is too dark. I retreat to sleep to escape the constant barrage of attacks thrown at me by my own mind.


I beg for it to stop, I try to reason with my depression, explain it away. I show it evidence of the good in my life, but it has a defense that seems impenetrable. It reminds me of my mistakes, all of the areas I fall short. It reminds me of my faults and every area where I lack. It makes me feel less than, unworthy of love, incapable of life.


Depression is torture. It is a revolving battle of good and evil. It is soul sucking and exhausting. Fighting the fight of depression is a battle of truth and lies.


Depression tells me to just be numb because sometimes feeling nothing feels better than feeling everything all at once.