Depression Co-Dependency

Today as usual my mind took a flight of fancy, on trying to make sense of my own depression, and at the end of the day I can only tell my story as it pertains to me, but want to bring awareness to those who don’t understand and give courage to those who have yet to start their journey back to wellness. Guest Bloggers.

 

I realised going through my last bout with depression, that I was a co-dependent, I never really thought about it before and it struck me that during the darkest times it kept me going.

Sound odd? well as I gave more credence to the idea it made a weird sense and not an aspect I had considered before.

You see I had already pushed everyone away, through fear and shame and basically this was even darker than previous episodes and I was seriously frightened, not only for myself but for others who came into contact with me.

My anger was at times monumental, I’d almost choke on it, and it was reserved for those around me, the things I thought about people makes me shudder, not that I acted on it, but had a sense that they could feel my antipathy, so therefore wouldn’t want to be around me either.

The anger I felt towards my self rendered me impotent, which just added to the feelings of loathing, disgust, isolation.

Sitting day after day with the curtains drawn, the tv on in the background, smoking endless cigarettes the only time I really felt physical pain is when the demons came out to play, and I welcomed them as they were my only source of company, sounds a bit out there doesn’t it? when all my emotions were crashing around me it was the only thing that heightened my senses, why because it seemed tangible.

You could argue that I was wallowing in self pit, and actually that would be true in some respects, but the black clouds communicated with me and I listened and did its bidding, in that I mean I didn’t seek to get well.

It told me I was ugly, I believed that and took zero care of my external facade, depression is no beauty treatment, my skin turned sallow, huge dark circles around my eyes, dry skin, spots, my nails bitten to the quick, my clothes well the few I had were in poor condition, my hair fell out in huge clumps, when I saw all of that later on I agreed I was ugly the reason being I’d let myself go.

It told me no one cared I readily believed, not even thinking I’d pushed everybody away I needed to believe I was alone, it needed me to be alone so it could do its work.

It told me I was useless, true I could barely open my eyes to face each day, jumping at every sound, even when I walked the streets at night,(a surprising amount of people seem to be doing the same) it was the only way I could face being outside.

Weight loss was severe, but because I was ill and not fat(weight regained now) depression is not a diet aid either, when I did eat it was junk, and nothing that nourished.

So you see I was dependent on depression until I changed my thinking, and when I look in the mirror I see the truth I’m not the person I was before, oh I smile more, and am happier, but it dimmed my sparkle, added a few lines, generally left me a glass empty, which I’m slowly refilling, and so another lesson learned not to be co-dependent and motivate myself everyday to appreciate something good.

Don’t beat yourself up, because the black dog is waiting to cheer you on.