The darkness and I

I’ve struggled with mental illness for years.

For a little while now, I’ve had more good days than bad.

Tonight I find myself unusually low. There are probably a plethora of reasons causing it, but it doesn’t really matter what they are. All I know is that tonight I am encompassed by this darkness. Although I haven’t felt it in a while, it’s a familiar feeling. It leads me to believe that it’s always been there, and it’s been there so vehemently that it has become a part of me. This low, this darkness, this depression, whatever you want to call it, runs through my veins like blood.

When it comes back it’s as though it never left.

The strangest thing about it is that it’s a comfortable feeling. I’ve spent so much of my life feeling like this that it’s almost like an old friend that’s come to visit. No matter how much time passes, when it comes back it’s as though it never left. I’m transported back in time, flooded by memories of suicidal ideation, heartache, and indescribable loneliness.

I sometimes cling to this darkness. It’s at my core; it’s who I am. My distorted thoughts tell me that I deserve it. The darkness and I, we’re made for each other. I struggle to recognize the legitimacy of these thoughts. Maybe they’re not distorted after all.

I’ve been trying to remember how I felt when I was at my worst. I feel like if I don’t keep those memories vivid I’ll be a bad mental health advocate because I won’t be able to relate to people’s struggles anymore. Part of me wants to forget, the morbid part of me wants to relive it, but most of me just wants to remember.

Why are these memories so important to me? I suppose they have shaped me – but I must be careful to not let my past dictate my future. What do I want my future to look like? I want to help people who are facing the struggles that I have faced and continue to work through. I fear I will lack the empathy necessary to succeed in this if I’m not at the pit of despair right along with them.

This darkness and I, we’re a team.

I find myself purposely engaging in activity that makes me start to travel down that winding road to hell. Self-care becomes non-existent. I begin to crave those negative feelings – almost as if it’s an addiction. In some sort of twisted fashion, it’s like I believe that I need to suffer in order to help others.

This darkness and I, we’re a team. Circumstance dictates who’s in charge for the day. Sometimes it acts as CEO, leaving me lifelessly in bed all day, dead to the world. Other days I take charge and try to harness it into something good. If we’re partners, this darkness and I, I’m going to damn well figure out a way to utilize it.

As I continue to venture through life, I’ll keep on hitting the bumps in the road – as one does. My bumps might be a bit bigger and rougher than the average person’s, with the darkness and all. I know I won’t be alone. I can only hope that one day we’ll head down the path together in peace.