Living Through The Days

It's hard — living each day with this feeling inside, living each day with these thoughts, living each day just to get through. I never knew how much this feeling could affect anyone to a point of no return. I live this way. My life has revolved itself around anxiety and depression. Waking up isn't the same as before. Going to work is so much harder. Seeming happy is the toughest.

Since the age of fifteen, I became aware of what it was to feel depression. But it wasn't until I was 21 that I knew what anxiety could feel like and how much it could destroy a person. A mixture of the two only creates this unimaginable catastrophe which is unbearable. I count the days to finally became whole, to finally became the happy person I have always wanted to be. But with a tough past, it's not as easy as someone expects.

How can you go to someone and talk about this, though? You can't. That's the answer to it. You can't find someone who will understand you. Everyone goes through it differently. Everyone's end is different. No one truly understands. The only person you could lean on is that one person who is staring right back at you in the mirror. That's the only person you can lean on but also the only person you are truly afraid of.

Anxiety and depression have taken over my life. Being in my early 20s, anyone would expect the party life, the drinking life, that amazing life. Not me. I am far from it. I had to grow up quicker than most. I grew up with everyone telling me I had the mind of a forty-year-old. And when those words were told to me, I knew everyone was right. I had to, though. I worried more about others than myself. It affected me in a way. I never thought about myself first. I just kept dealing with what I felt on the side. It wasn't so much that I had to grow up quicker. I just knew I had to be responsible, which created a lot of pressure as a kid. And I was never aware of how this could creep up on someone or how much it could damage them. I thought everyone felt this feeling. Growing up with a mind like mine, I had to just deal with it, take care of others, and never let anyone see what I did at night... cry.

The depression was something I lived with but no one knew. I keep quiet about it so my family isn't concerned. Crying releases the pain. I cry more on some nights, more than others. I replay my life — every single part of it. The hurt, the betrayal, the brokenness. It runs in circles inside of me. This increases the depression but it's what I let myself be put through.

What I write is not to let anyone know that it's okay to feel this way, that it will be like this forever. This is what I go through. This is how I live every day. One day, I hope to get through the rest of my life with a better perspective of life. It's hard for the moment. But I'll have to see day by day.