Mar 242016
 

March 15, 2016

I feel like a bomb tick-ticking ready to go off, only without the always included count to say when. Instead I am simply like a live grenade whose pin has been pulled and been tossed into the black unknown waiting for the explosive light that is me to be shown.

I need to feel the slice of the blade melting through my flesh to expose my tortured soul. I need to see the blood drip-dripping to show me that I may be deprived of my conscience though my heart still beats. The dying crimson begging for air that it will never again receive.

Infuriated and frustrated with no excuse, begging for a resolution that will never come. I am undone. My hands with no bones even though I can type. Numb to a world I am not sure is there. Hidden like a stillborn and choking on toxic muddied air.

I don’t feel like continuing this brutal hard fight. It hurts the most in the dark of the night. I struggle to know the difference between wrong and right. I am surrounded by people and I am all alone, completely unknown, unwanted. Ashamed to not feel any shame at all.

I don’t belong here. Defeated and already gone far too long. I can’t remember what it was like to feel complete and it’s a game I desire not to play. What’s one more day? A future that holds no hope, a past that’s best forgotten and a nightmarish present that I can’t seem to escape.

That’s what life is – emotional rape. Where love is given and received while in reality its me being naïve, deceived. Can you believe and why should I? The false joy glistening on swollen lips, eyes begging up like a puppy wanting a prize only to be belted across rosy cheeks. Vulnerable, weak.

Tear stained cheeks and chains that only I can feel force me to crawl right back, promising to do better as the gag presses between my teeth to muffle my bratty cries. Am I your dirty secret or a naughty lie? Why can’t you answer me, why the hiding, the disguise?

I am sorry that you are the part of me that I lack. The rational that I cannot rationalize with on my own. The drug that fills my veins and keeps me eagerly awaiting my next fix, only to realize that the next high is never as good as the first and too much is an overdose I may not survive.

Withered, weathered, fallen like an unheard tree in a forest with no sound. Putrid decaying and the axe swings high, splintered dry breaks up the clear blue sky as I struggle to grip the edge of the jagged cliff while silently begging for the moss to just let me go.

Just. Let. Me. Go.

And the voice inside my head shatters my eardrums as it violently screams no. No you can’t leave, no you won’t go. No, I do love you. No, you are brave and strong and everything I need. No. No. No. And I don’t even crave the serpents slithering yes.

Life isn’t what I had expected. Not this tragic ending. I looked forward to the beautiful mess. My eyes are closed but for once I can actually see. The only struggle is, am I really me?

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  16 Responses to “Alive Despite Depression | From My Journal”

  1. Marisa, I’m thankful for your life, and I’m thankful you are alive. I am praying for you tonight. Thanking God for the light of life He’s placed within you. You are a beautiful child of His. Thank you for your transparency. I wish I could hug you in person. Bless you, dear friend.

    • Thank you, Julie!! I am thankful for being alive too!! Lord knows that I wouldn’t be had He not chosen to keep me here!! I have learned that I have to share the broken parts the same way I have to share the good because in the end it’s all for His glory!!

  2. Marissa, depression has this awful way of stealing away the light. I am so thankful you are here and alive. But I know not every day is easy. You are a beautiful child of God “fearfully and wonderfully” made. I’m in the #5 spot this week.

    • Thank you for your encouragement, Tara. I often worry when I write like this and share it that someone will think I am in harms way, when in reality these are simply thoughts and a part of my journey to healing, we all have good days and bad days, what I do know for sure is that God is a constant even when the clouds do their best to prevent me from seeing

  3. Marisa…words fail me, other than to say you are valued, you are loved.

    I have never dealt with depression – I have severe PTSD, which has some similarities, but I can’t say “I know how you feel”.

    I do know this – you are precious to me, and to everyone in the FMF community. I love your essays, and your comments. You make a difference.

    • I have PTSD with depression and anxiety (and insomnia and several other things). I am happy you can’t say you know how I feel, because everyone who suffers from a mental illness suffers differently. Yes it often follows a similar pattern but it is unique to each of us just the same! Praying for you today and always Andrew!

  4. Marissa. I’m so glad you’re alive to write beautiful words that help me understand the pain and agony a depressed person feels. May you feel the tender embrace of the Lover of your soul today as He ministers to your heart.

    • Thank you Anita! It is such a blessing to know that words that God begged me to share hit the right ears/eyes! Isn’t He amazing?

  5. Oh Marissa, it hurt me to read your words as they brought your torture so vividly alive. I battle with depression and live with PTSD (from domestic abuse). Life is hard. Very hard. But – I find there’s always a but – you will, I know it, find the way through. Hang on (I *know* how hollow these words are but I also *know* how much it matters that people take the time to show they care….). Hang in hanging on. (You don’t know me, I don’t know you, but if you do need to talk, please do feel free to contact me)….Helen {An FMF friend}

    • I have PTSD from domestic abuse too. Depression, anxiety, insomnia etc are my biggest symptoms. So sorry you have had to experience such pain. I take a dozen meds and have for years and it still doesn’t keep everything away. God has definitely helped me through, as has writing. It is HARD to open up the broken bits of my soul for others to read, but I feel like it is important for me to share my deepest and often scary thoughts, so that they can understand what is going through the mind of someone who “should be okay”

  6. What a precious, honest piece of you on the page. Thankful you continue to wake each day and fight through. No doubt, depression is one of the most difficult struggles to live with. Thank you for sharing!

    ~jennifer (#8 at FMF: Alive)

    • Thank you for your sweet words Jennifer! God doesn’t give me the option to quit, even when I want to! Sometimes we are called to bare our souls in a way we never expected, like sharing my personal journals!

  7. You can do this. Just hang on.

  8. Oh, Marisa, I just want to tell you that I love you!!! It doesn’t matter that we have never met IRL or that we are in different countries. You matter, girlfriend, and your words are helping someone else to heal. Stay strong!!!!

    • Thanks Lynette! It is nice to know that my words touch people who also have been scarred by life, but letting them out also helps me heal! God often speaks through me in such a raw and crazy way but I know it is He who has given me the words to speak and the need to share my gory, every story matters and he shows me that every single day, especially when what flows out doesn’t look anything like I had thought!

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