Lost in Translation
From the outside I seem together and normal. I look like everything is great. I smile. I clean. I teach. I pull myself together. What you don’t see is the constant battle in my head. The constant fight to feel better. The constant work it takes to put one foot in front of the other.
Don’t get me wrong I have good days. More and more lately. It’s getting better. The meds are helping. I am slowly getting better.
But some days
Some days I just want to quit. I really just want to give up. I want to step off this merry-go-round that we all call life.
I hear myself crying out from inside my head but the words somehow change. In my head I hear ” I give up”, “I quit”, and “not one more step”. These voices cry out so loud it is almost deafening. Like standing in front of a freight train that is barrelling down the tracks towards me.
The voice stuck on repeat that reminds me I am failing, falling apart, and broken. Those voices tell me time and time again that I cannot and will not be OK. It tells me that this is my new normal and it will never get better.It is loud and clear.
But somewhere it get’s lost in translation.
Those aren’t the words I feel. Those aren’t the words I say.
The quiet voice from my lips is simple
You may be asking why I am writing this. There are a few reasons really.
#1. It’s time we bring PPD and depression into the light. It doesn’t make me weak. It doesn’t make me selfish. I can’t just “Get over it” I cannot just make it disappear. It’s how I’m built. It’s part of what makes me me in my own very unique experience. I have been dealing with depression off and on my entire life. The first time I remember feeling dark and hopeless I was young. Maybe 6 or 8 years old.
I need to hear that sometimes as much as everyone else. I want you to know that if you feel as though you can’t take another step or those voices are too loud to overcome or you just can’t catch your breath, remember you aren’t alone.
It’s never hopeless.
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