I’m Still Trying

I was in a really bad place for the past few days. So bad that I started thinking about suicide. I started going to Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and I finally feel something other than empty and hopeless. I feel more optimistic than before but I still feel like I won’t be able to do all the things I need to manage my depression.

Eat healthier, get at least 8 hours of sleep, and exercise.

The only thing I’m really worried about is eating healthier. I don’t have money. I don’t have a job. I have a mini panic attack when I even think about going to an interview. So I’m trying to learn how to self-publish. The more I learn the more I realize I have to talk to people. In person. Face to face. That scares me too. I know I can ask my friends for money so I can get food but I feel like I already ask them for too much. And I don’t want to burden my parents anymore. I don’t know what to do.

I can try to change my sleeping habits. I usually put on a documentary and watch that until I fall asleep. It helps sometimes but other times I’m actually interested in the documentary and I want to keep watching. That’s what I get for being so inquisitive.

We also talked about triggers of depression, then the thoughts, feelings, behaviors, and physical symptoms of depression. The Cycle of Depression. For me, my main trigger is my financial stress. Which stems from being unemployed with student loan debts. My next trigger is family stress. Like when my parents keep pushing me to do things when I can’t do basic things like eating right or cleaning up after myself. It’s hard to talk to them sometimes because they think they know the answer but they don’t and I don’t know how to tell them they’re wrong without offending them.

Those are the two main triggers I have. The one that affects me almost daily is the financial stress. Because I want to do some much but I can’t because I don’t have any money. And I don’t want to keep asking. Especially when I don’t know if I’ll be able to pay people back. My friends keep telling me I can ask for whatever I need but I still feel like I’m taking advantage of them.

Then I start looking for a job and when I read the requirements I lose hope. Because all the jobs I apply for are looking for “outgoing” “people orientated” applicants and that’s just not me. I could lie but then I would have to pretend and that’s too much work. I’m already pretending almost every day to be more put together than I really am. I can’t possibly pretend to be the “perfect employee.”

There are ways I can earn money online as a creative individual though. Thanks to modern technology. I just have to learn how to use it. And I’m doing that thanks to Skillshare. And YouTube. And Google. I just have to take 30 minutes every single day and learn. Then take another hour or two to apply what I learned.

When I write it down it sounds so easy but I know I’ll struggle to apply myself. I should start with my CBT assignments before I work on my writing projects.

Baby Steps.


I’m Trying

I forgot what I was doing all this for. Writing poetry and blogging. I forgot why I started. Or perhaps I just didn’t have an initial reason. This is definitely the depression talking but I feel like giving up. Trying to explain now I feel to someone who doesn’t live inside my head is just too exhausting. I don’t feel like doing it anymore. Because when I do my parents still don’t understand and ask too much from me. I’m tired of working up the nerve and courage to keep trying to explain and not going anywhere.

But depression is so important to understand. And I can’t give up in trying to explain it. My life and the lives of millions of people are at stake. And depression is so misunderstood. I have to keep trying to get people to see what it really is and help them help those who need it.

I feel so stuck. Like I’m sinking further into quicksand and I’m not even trying to get out of it. I’ve been feeling more and more inclined to flip out, throw things and scream. But I’m scared of losing control and hurting myself or someone else. And I don’t want to be sent off to a mental institute because I’m a danger to myself and others. But I don’t know what else to do right now. I feel like everything I’ve been working towards since I started this blog and since I started learning self-publishing is going down the drain.

I feel like everything I’ve been working towards since I started this blog and since I started learning self-publishing is going down the drain. Because for the past few days I haven’t had the energy to get up and take care of myself let alone write something. And no one understands how hard it was for me to get up and do things. But I started going to Cognitive Behavioral Therapy yesterday and I’m learning how to manage it as well as learning how to talk about it. Hopefully, I’ll won’t miss any appointments.

The Fog Won Today

I finally got up at 1:30 pm to use the bathroom and eat. I even made some tea and cleaned up a little bit. But I still feel heavy. Still tired. I want to go back to sleep. I wanted to get up and do some yoga but The Fog stole my energy. It feels like I have weights on my limbs. It hurts to get up and do things. My knees wobble and my hand’s tremble. My heart beats harder and it feels like I’m dying. My head hurts when I stand too fast.

I’m just a fucking mess today. I want to go out and enjoy the beautiful day but sun hurts my eyes. I’m not sure if I will have the energy to go to writing workshop tonight. Especially after my mom asked me to clean the bathroom which I’m probably not going to do. I don’t even have the energy to work on my poetry or my novel today. But I know if I don’t I’ll regret not doing anything productive. And I know if I don’t clean up my mom would get upset and start yelling about how lazy I am.

I wish she could see the shackles on my limbs wearing me down. I wish she could feel how heavy they are. I wish she could see the fog clouding my vision. But then again I don’t want to wish this on her. Or anyone. While It would be nice if they understood what it felt like I would want anyone to experience depression. It’s a nightmare. And it never ends. Even when I’m feeling good or when something good happens to me I can’t help but wonder how long this good feeling will last.

I don’t know what to do.

I took me 3 hours to write this. 3 hours. And I don’t think I said everything I wanted to say. But I’m too tired to continue.


It feels like I jumped in quicksand and I’m slowly giving up on trying to get myself out of this mess. I still have bursts of motivation to get myself out. But these bursts of random motivation gets shorter and shorter. I give up faster each time. Letting myself to sink further until I’m in danger of suffocating. When I get to that point I usually have someone there to pull me up a little. They never stay long enough to get me out completely. They have other things to do and I don’t want to be too needy. I’m scared of the day I give up and allow myself to drown.

Trying to explain how I feel

There are stacks of antique TVs with old 80’s and 90’s smash hits music videos playing in my head. But they’re distorted, chopped and screwed. I like it better that way. It makes me feel something. Something is better than the nothing I’ve been feeling all these years. I start reminiscing about the “good old days.” But then I realize they weren’t so good were they? They’re actually filled with endless mistakes and regrets and missed opportunities. And the songs I held so dearly now possess a different meaning. They no longer remind me of the good old days. They remind me of all the things I wish I could have said. Things I could have done instead. And I  have this overwhelming urge to go back and fix my life. But then I realize it’s all in vain. I already know how things will end. And I can’t change that. So I disassociate. And pretend that I don’t feel anything. Feeling nothing is better than feeling this.

The Fog Returns

It starts with oversleeping. I say I’m just so comfortable I don’t want to get up. But it pins me to the bed. It’s starting to suck the energy from me. It’s getting stronger by taking my strength. I wake up with my alarm but I don’t get out of bed like I should. I tell myself to stay where it’s warm and safe.

It stops me from eating like I should. I say I forget but I really don’t feel like it. But I really do. I’m just craving everything I can’t afford. I end up eating once a day. And that’s most likely a late breakfast. Not even a whole one. It weakens me.

Then the thoughts come. Why even try anymore. You’re not that talented. You’re not that smart. Your friends don’t really care. No one really cares. You should just give it. It’s too hard.

And the sadness keeps me from reaching out. I ignore my friends. I don’t tell them what my mind is doing to me. The sadness keeps me from emptying my thoughts on the page. I know its the best thing I should do but I just don’t feel like it. I have no more energy to fight it.

I never know what to do when it gets this far. So I just let it do what it wants. And I pretend I’m alright. But I wish I was back in bed. Alone with the fog. The only one who understands. The only one who believes.

It was nice while it lasted.


She didn’t care what other people thought of her. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind and say what she wanted. She was a bit lonely. She wished her parents didn’t work so much. She wished they didn’t move so much. She barely had time to make friends. She forgot how to make friends after the 5th elementary school she started in. She started to get bullied by then.

She lost her innocence. It was stolen from her. Along with her strength. The world seemed smaller then. He was always around the corner waiting for them to be alone. So they can do it again. And she just let him. She felt weak when she didn’t stop him. She felt numb with him. Too scared to stop him. She could only watch them. Escaped from her own body. She locked herself in her own mind. Then the confusion set in.

New emotions she’s unfamiliar with. It doesn’t feel right but it’s the only thing she knows. So it had to be right. Right? No one told her otherwise. She could never tell anyone anyway. She doesn’t think they’ll believe her anyway. Why didn’t she feel anything? Wasn’t she supposed to like this? Enjoy this? No one told her otherwise. She just felt empty. She never stopped it. So she had to be enjoying it?

She learned quickly that she was just a plaything. Nothing more. And she wasn’t the only one. But they enjoyed it more. What was wrong with her? Was she broken? Probably. But she continued to be his plaything. She tried to enjoy it. She kept saying she did. But she really didn’t. She wanted him to stop. But she didn’t want him to. She was confused. She didn’t know what she really wanted. Why?

They got caught in the act. She thought this was her chance to stop this once and for all. But mom went to talk to him first. She was left alone. The last this she wanted to be. She tried to think of what to say. She tried to tell mom that she didn’t want this to happen. She wanted to stop it. She didn’t ask him to do anything. It was all a blur to her. Why didn’t mom believe her?

It’s been years since he touched her. But the memories still haunt her. She tried to put this behind her. It never happened. It would never happen. Don’t tell anyone. They won’t believe you anyway. Just let it go. Don’t think about it. Just let it go. But the nightmares continued. Followed her for the rest of her life. It became a constant companion. The only friend that believed her.

Explaining My Depression to my Dad: The Pre-Work

So now he thinks I self-diagnosed myself. Great. I can’t believe he doesn’t remember me going to therapy. I’m sure I told him. Or maybe he thought I went just to talk about nothing. I don’t know. Or maybe I thought I told him but I really didn’t. I do that sometimes. I say things to people in my head thinking that I said it out loud.

So I wrote down how it feels for me. I will either read it to him when I feel the time is right, maybe after a couple therapy sessions. Or maybe I’ll just let him read it.

What Depression Feels Like To Me

It’s like a fog or an overcast on a beautiful day. All I want to do is lift that fog so I can enjoy it. Sometimes it lifts and I can but other times it just gets heavier and or thicker. On those days I will either keep trying to lift it but that gets exhausting. Eventually, I will get tired and just pretend that it’s not there. But even that gets exhausting. I’m not always strong enough to lift the fog by myself. I wish I have someone there to lift it for me. And if there isn’t anyone there the fog weighs me down and I end up feeling numb.

Sometimes depression feels like an overcast. Completely out of my control. Something that will come and go. I wait patiently. Numb and empty. Lethargic and apathetic. I just want to go back to sleep and hope when I wake it’ll be over. When I do sleep all day I’ll feel worse. Irritated and angry with myself for procrastinating on everything. Then I get stressed out because of the overwhelming things that I have to do. And I actually want to panic because I just want to feel something that would kick myself into high gear. But half the time nothing happens. I try to distract myself by doing something that might give me joy. Sometimes it does and other times it doesn’t. It really depends on the amount of support I get.

That’s all I have for now. I don’t want this post to get too long and I have some chores I need to do. Also, I forgot to eat. And I’m starving. I’ll continue this later today. Or tomorrow.

The Fog is back again

There is is again. The weight of the fog pinning me to my seat. Refusing to let me move. Or maybe I’m just lazy like everyone else says. And here I go again dragging me feet. Wishing for the comfort of my bed. Hating myself for leaving the house. Trying to enjoy the beautiful day.

Instead I want to shut my eyes and sleep this fog away. Maybe it’ll engulf me. Maybe it’ll take me away to a place where I can be free from the pain of being human. 

I don’t mean I will take my own life. I just want to dissapear not die. I want to dissapear Like Alice in wonderland. I wish to bee free from this prison. Sometimes I wonder if I created this myself. If I could just will it away. If I just think really hard. Will it go away forever? 

Or am I stick with this for the rest of my life? I already know there is no magic pill that’ll take this away…