I am depressed. I have anxiety.

Having depression is like a fog that follows me wherever I go. Some days the fog is pretty thin and you can see the sun shinning through. And for a second you think you’re okay and that maybe the fog will go away. Because, when the fog is somewhat uplifted, beams of light shine through to you, where you can finally feel the warmth after a long trek in a winter blizzard and you come home to a warm fire place and hot chocolate. It’s refreshing. It’s replenishing. It’s above all else, something. But, there are times where the world is black. It consumes you. It surrounds you. The fog entraps you. You don’t feel the rays of light; you don’t feel anything but emptiness. Your bones start to become hollow and your head floats up in the dark fog. All of a sudden it becomes a burden to do everyday things. Like brushing your hair, brushing your teeth, getting dressed, even taking a shower. And when you shower you finally feel the warmth that the fog inhibits you from. And suddenly your bones become metal and your head crashes down to the earth from a far away galaxy. And you drop like an anchor to the floor of the tub. The hot water continues to pour on you like a mother caressing her child. You hold back sobs and your tears mix with the hot stream that flows over you. You crash. And the darkness makes it a burden to do things you love. It clouds you. While reading used to provide you with a fantastical escape the darkness shrouds the words on the page and everything blurs. Your head hurts from trying too hard, and you eventually lose the desire. Watching TV is only a way for you to sit still and stare at something without looking like a mental patient. You don’t actually watch the TV, you just look at it while the dark fog eats away at your mind in the background.  You crawl into bed seeking warmth and comfort, and sleep. You feel oh so tired all the time. You can have a full nine hours of sleep and feel like you had three. And when you sleep you dream. You dream of not being you. You dream of a far away place. Sleeping and dreaming are the only escape routes to the fog. The most torturous things about the fog is that you can see others basking in the light in the far distance, and how you yearn for this brightness. But, the worst is when you don’t care. When you don’t feel envious. When you accepted the fog, because it is you. Sometimes the fog isn’t so bad and some times it’s fine.  Even though there’s a tinge of grayness in you, you can sometimes bask in the light.  Having anxiety is like sitting on a chair that is about to tip over and you feel that pang of fear continuously. It’s a constant fear you posses. You fear breathing because you might be breathing too loud. You fear showing yourself, because someone might notice you. You fear showing yourself to anyone, because you don’t feel worthy. You don’t feel like you belong. You extremely aware of your entire body and every cell and nerve is on edge and ready to pounce. In physics terms your eternally ‘potential force’. Your always on the defense afraid of offense. There is a constant fear you have of interacting with others. Fear of judgment.  Fear of failure. Fear of betrayal. Fear of loss. Fear of everything and everyone, most of all yourself. When you have depression and anxiety your opponent is yourself. It’s your own mind. You own body. Influencing you, your thoughts, your actions. It makes you eat a lot of food, so that you feel like you have to throw up and hate yourself. You hate yourself so much that you stop eating, because eating is what makes you unhappy. The words fat, ugly, gross, disgusting, and monstrous play over and over in your head like a record that never ends, always playing in the back of your mind. It’s a constant cycle of abuse. When people say just smile and be happy, love yourself. You cant help but think, How can I love myself, when I’m the one causing myself pain? It’s common sense and common human nature to despise what or who causes you harm or acts as a threat. So when you do thin upon yourself, you hate yourself. It doesn’t matter if you can be funny, or creative, or smart, or that you look pretty. You would give it all up just so you can like yourself. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what people think you are or what you should be , because you’re the one looking at yourself in the fogged mirror, after crying in the shower, with disgust.