I describe living with depression as living in an abyss.
I am at the bottom of a very deep hole, its dark, the sides are very hard to climb and in the middle of the bottom of the hole is a horrible black lake.
Because Depression is not a static condition, where I am in the Abyss describes where I am in the mental illness.
Sometimes I am underwater in the middle middle of a black lake at the bottom of by Abyss. I spent nearly two years in bed without a job and this eventually turned into homelessness. I was underwater during most of that time.
And sometimes I’m on the shore of the lake unable to muster the energy to try climbing the walls. When I first got a job while homeless, this is how I felt.
And sometimes, most of the time these days, I’m climbing up the walls toward the surface. For the last year, I have been trying to figure out a system to get the fuck out of the hole. Or at least spend more time near the top, where there is at least some light.
Sometimes I get to the edge of the surface. I can see grand vistas of normal life before I slip back in. Sometimes these moments only last for a few hours, recently they have lasted for a few days.
I dream of getting out of the Abyss and walking away from the hole. Too far away to fall back in. This is probably a fairytale, but I dream of it anyway.