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DP is his name

Guest Author: Alyssia

This content contains explicit and sensitive information that may not be suitable for all ages.

I have to write.

Because at this very moment I’m struggling to find a glimmer of light; I need some insight. I’m constantly faced with my fight or flight, and the grounding I haven’t quite mastered. My life is a disaster. I need to find the girl with hope and cast her, she should be the real star but right now she’s locked in a pasture and her visits are short-lived – like the unimportant extras in the credits that pass by faster.

The one that pulls me away from my cohort.

Might as well call her Casper, friendly but rarely present, it’s her lack of longevity I question and she’s rarely found in a session despite wanting to show the therapist the side of her that’s a blessing but that girl is always resting. It’s as if she’s been arrested and is exercising her right to remain silent, she’s being controlled by a tyrant; and his name is Depression. DP for short.

The one that pulls me away from my cohort – DP seems like an immortal of some sort; he never dies and is constantly feeding me these lies, a disguise that is glued to my face and I cannot face him even when I try my best to embrace him, DP always wins.

I become indecisive; full of fright; and it always extends into the night, the pain feels quite real, how can I ever heal if my progress is always unsealed and allowed to seep through, there’s nothing I can do, no coping strategies, I just stew, these thoughts are becoming true… the fear of it never getting better because every time I start to set sail, it’s like I get another letter in the mail saying “just kidding” – “did you really think we’d let you stop being bed ridden?”

I feel hopeful on those rare days.

Depression wasn’t kidding, and it’s my class he sits in. Feeling like his role is intrinsic and he far exceeds his own limits but he always makes me submit and sometimes I come close to wanting to quit but then she comes back. The one locked away in a pasture; she reminds me that I need to come catch her before she collapses in there from that disaster. And so, a small ray of hope unwinds and, in my mind, I actually think it is all going to be fine if I can just gather the strength in time. I believe the therapist’s perspective that I’m going to be okay, I feel hopeful on those rare days and for once I’m not beating myself up for disappointing him, I’m able to display the progress I feel is expected.

But let me interject on that, I know that it’s not expected, but it’s my brain that is defected; I guess due to abandonment and feeling rejected, I feel that if I don’t hurry up and heal, that he too, will give up on me for real. It’s saddening but it’s how I feel. An obligation that is so surreal. No one has ever been there, nobody ever cared – but this one, his heart he actually shares. A professional who has made it his mission to help me feel understood; finding that, I never thought I would.

But what bothers me most is DP always comes back; it’s like I’m an ant and he’s got the magnifying glass.

Why can’t I just see it as fucked up?

It’s my lack of compassion, I get it, I need to change but sometimes it feels like that ability is far out of range. How can I be nice to me when I’m hurting so immensely, of course I get defensive, this shit is overwhelming. I want nothing more than for it to go away for good but I know that’s impossible but I really wish it could. “What you resist, persists” I’m told quite often but that’s hard because the voice inside of me doesn’t want to soften. And DP is so frequent, I’m lucky when I can detach; it feels like I can breathe and I have better vision – but when he’s with me, I’m always tempted to make an incision on my arm, they call that self-harm but it feels like I get to shut off the alarm in my head so no wonder I choose this instead yet I’m equally upset with my self for wanting to use this method.

Why can’t I just see it as fucked up? Why can’t I simply say “that’s enough” and get rid of the razors and stuff. I’m in pain. And for some weird reason, it helps, even though I feel so ashamed. Life is really hard. Cuts me just as deep as the glass shard.

I can only hope that someday I will be stronger; I dream of the days that my happiness extends longer. It would be so beautiful if I could see my whole life through the clearer lens; it would help me value myself and maybe even make amends. Until then, I’ll try to keep trusting the process and be patient in the work, stop wanting to give up because I’m meant to impact people here on Earth.

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