I recently scrolled back through the notes app on my phone and found a bunch of old bits of writing. Some I shared as captions on social media, others have never seen the light of day, and some were just partial thoughts that I never revisited. But I figured I’d share them here because, well, why not? I’m leaving them exactly as I originally wrote them, so excuse any typos or weirdness that flowed onto my digital paper back then.
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I’ve always pictured depression as a muddy pit that’s somewhere behind me. It might be a few steps away or it might be miles away but I always know that it’s there. Sometimes I slowly back up and slip down into it without even realizing it. Sometimes life shoves me hard enough that I fall straight down into it, landing flat on my back. Climbing back out of that pit is the hardest part. When the top is just a few steps away, I’m able to take a couple steps, slip back down, take a few more steps, and then hopefully get out. But when I get that shove and am laying there, wind knocked out of me, staring hopelessly up at my way out, it’s hard to even want to try. You know that scene in Homeward Bound where Shadow is stuck at the bottom of the pit and no matter how hard he tries to get out, he just keeps sliding back down? That’s what it feels like: completely fucking hopeless. The mental effort it takes to try to get out on my own, to ask for help, to even move to take a hand or rope that’s reaching out to me feels overwhelming. Every little thing that goes wrong when I’m down there feels like a downpour making the mud even more slippery and making it seem even more hopeless to get out. Being at the bottom of that pit is miserable but it feels easier than putting in the work to get out.
In the last couple weeks, I had one of those moments where life shoved me hard and I hit rock bottom for a few days. Everything that happened between that first shove and when I finally opened my eyes to start trying to get out felt like that downpour or like rocks being thrown on top of me. I haven’t felt so hopeless and helpless in a long time. Luckily, life threw me a lifeline – I got a glimpse of the light at the top of the pit and it woke me up enough to make me open my eyes and start crawling out. I’ve reached out to my friends, I’ve talked through some things, and luck has played a role as well. Over the years, I’ve learned that I can’t climb out from the bottom on my own – whether that means I have to ask for help or I just have to ask for someone to be there with me for a few minutes. I’m lucky to have good friends and good people in my life that are willing to help or help when they don’t even know that they’re helping.
I know that I’m not alone in all of these feelings – the hopelessness, the helplessness, the loneliness and the hopefulness and support that can come after opening your eyes and start moving. I don’t know why I’m posting this but I think it’s, at the very least, to help people feel less alone and maybe to give a little hope if you’re laying at the bottom of that pit with your eyes closed. There are good people out there and that can be something that’s hard to remember right now. But reach out to those people – whether they’re close friends, acquaintances, or maybe it’s just someone you follow on social media that you talk to from time to time. In this day and age, we’re not alone – no matter how socially isolated some of us may feel at the moment. Covid has presented a unique barrier to feeling less alone right now but what I’ve realized is that even the small things – even the small steps that might seem useless like text, phone call, or facetime – can help. Try to take one small step, then another, then another, and eventually, maybe even without realizing it, you’ll be standing back on solid ground with the sun shining.
