Some time after I had recovered from the darkest depths of my depression I began to have this sense of urgency in finding a meaning for the suffering. To me, there had to be a reason because why on earth life would throw me this great big hurdle that ruined my life for no reason. I couldn’t understand it. I had spent the best part of a year not feeling anything but emptiness and suddenly emotions just came pounding down on me. I had finally got my head above the water again but coming back to reality after the depression is just as hard as the suffering. It still is.
Over a year later, I feel like I am still trying to grieve for everything I lost. Often times when I wake up, I have to consciously make the effort to not think about “where I should be” or what I “should” be doing. I get tiny moments of defeat thinking of what depression took from me. It took my friends, chance of going to university with the rest of my peers, travelling and much more. I know living in the past contributes to depressed feelings but it can be so emotionally draining to pretend that I’m not angry. I’m angry with myself, I’m angry at my brain and most times, just plain old angry at the universe. It doesn’t get me anywhere; I know that, yet my mind can’t seem to forgive itself. Sometimes anger is just anger- it's not a feeling that is masking any sadness, it's the sense of knowing what could have been and desperately trying to move forward.
Pain wants to be felt, it lets us know something is wrong. But the brain is different; we push this pain away because it doesn’t demand our attention until it has taken things away from us. I didn’t care about my life or its worth until suddenly I was overcome with desperation to live it. We see in films how a tragic event brings people together and gives people a new sense of life but in reality that's not what happens. I didn't reach some miraculous epiphany on how to live my life to the fullest because I had suffered.
Depression was nearly the end for me. And now here I am convincing myself that I can’t of come that close to death and it not mean anything. I wish I could say it has inspired me to fulfil my dreams but it hasn’t. I wish I could say it has convinced me to get healthy but it hasn’t (although having fibromyalgia has done that!). I wish I could say it hasn’t made me bitter but it has. I’m a good person. I can say that with no guilt or shame. But am I a much better person for what I’ve been through? I don't think so. Stronger, most definitely. But it’s made me weary of the future, it’s made me angry and I’m no longer the carefree person I used to be.
Maybe there isn't ever going to be a clear meaning. I am not the type of person that believes everything happens for a reason, I wish I was but I don't. I believe that some things will never have a reason for happening and they are just simply crap. Depression was/is utter crap. Yes, it's taught me many things but that doesn't mean I always think there was a reason for it.
So I begin the search to find myself again. Not to find a specific meaning but to find me. The new me. Maybe this year of hell isn’t going to have meant anything other than I’m strong and depression is the worst thing ever. But a part of me believes good will come out of this and that good will be finding myself and who I really want to be without depression on my back. I’m a believer and depression didn’t take that away from me. I go through life with a hopeless sense of optimism that I’m going to find my way someday. My day may not be here yet but I will get there. I believe I can become a better person again. I also believe that at some point this suffering is going to have meant something.
Hey there, I'm Jasmine, your average 21 year old working as a nanny and play assistant. Maybe Tomorrow follows my journey living with mental health issues and chronic pain, all whilst trying to have some fun along the way.
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