Is this my depression talking?

On a cold summers day, the darkest day in December, I was left broken, my heart shattered. But I thought I’d be alright; I felt incredibly resilient. After years of sobriety and new ways of coping I believed a transcendence had taken place. I didn’t need support. I was a Buddhist, I meditated, I ran every day. I was the healthiest I’ve ever been. Months prior I even stopped taking medication; I was sure things would never go backwards. My broken heart just wanted to dwell on what I lost a bit longer, indulge in the pain as I used too; it was so comforting to not let go. Weeks turned into months. I turned my back on advice and support, and built walls that no one could penetrate. I didn’t want friends, friendships hurt. I thought I was safe on my mighty moat, behind my fortress, safe with my books and poetry to protect me. But it wasn’t enough. I moved my pain from place to place. “I am a sad story,” I convinced myself. I let the pain overtake me, change me. Devoid of love where do I turn now? Isolated and desperate I thought there was love in the drug, but it only took the rest of it away. And the glue that held it all together I no longer believed; Buddha meant it’s all meaningless, the universe had no plan. Is this just my depression talking? I began to search for help but only once I was on the edge. Beautiful people along the way tried to help, some did, even saved the remnants of my soul, and I was smiling. But even with mud in my eyes I still could not see. I became a hungry ghost, alcohol and drugs became my home. It was exciting, but only before using, after that, I was a prisoner, possessed by a stranger in my head. A reality many relate to, addicts can’t seem to break free from. Slightly healed but empty I came back to where it began. I had genuinely happy moments but I was still lying to myself. I’m too bruised to fight this. After two years I finally speak the truth; it not only set me free, but I found the self-love I was looking for. Now my happiness feels infinite. I finally remembered my teaching; when I walk out the door tomorrow something might happen that will change my life forever. And you see I don’t mind what happens, which doesn’t mean I don’t care. And we all carry sad stories, but at this moment I’m not a sad story. This new foundation is where I rebuild.

2 thoughts on “Is this my depression talking?

Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: