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Depression doesn’t mean I’m broken, it means I deserve compassion

 

I could feel the sadness creeping up again, like an unwelcome relative looking over my shoulder and breathing down my neck. I didn’t want it to come, but it did, and I knew that I was helpless to stop it. And then it washed over me; it poured down like a river of madness, and bathed me in uncertainty. As the tears poured down my face and I crawled into bed, I wanted nothing other than to end my own life. Again. But I couldn’t move. I was drowning and stuck staring into nothingness, and the nothingness was ripping my heart apart. As much as I wanted to end my life, I had no energy to get up and do it.

Some time went by, and the energy slowly came back into my body. I muddled around and managed to answer work emails, walk my dog, feed myself and finish some schoolwork. As I drifted around the house and tried to connect with life again, my phone rang. It was a friend, calling to check up on me. My brain told me not to answer it, and I listened. Tomorrow, or maybe the next day, I told myself. Right now, right now I need rest.darkness and light

For a day life sped up then slowed down, like a dream. My head pounded and my body ached, and the tears spontaneously fell. Behind it all was the deep-seated urge to kill myself, but more than that, was the knowledge that this was my depression, a condition that I was diagnosed with two years ago. I tried to talk to myself, beyond the dark voices that told me to do otherwise, beyond the horrendous physical pain that wanted to keep me strapped to my bed. I fought it all back, and talked to myself. And I prayed. I talked to God. And he talked back. He told me that I’m not broken. I’m not worthless. I have an illness that needs a lot of care and compassion, just like me.

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned. Isaiah 9:2

That was the verse I read this morning; I try to meditate on scripture when I wake up, or listen to Joyce Meyer or Joel Osteen every day. It’s funny; I find that no matter what the verse, it always seems to specifically apply to whatever I’m going through or will be going through. This morning when I read the verse, I liked it, but couldn’t really grasp how it applied to my life. I sat with it for a second and then moved on. Tonight, as I am writing this, I am amazed at God’s goodness. I had no idea this morning that I would have a serious depression onset today, and would be living in “the darkness” so to speak, but God did. It is further proof, like so many other times, that putting my faith in Him is the key to my ongoing recovery. I never have any idea what the day will hold, but I don’t have to. When I am weak, He is strong, and that’s the way I want it to be.

Depression doesn’t mean I’m broken, it means I deserve compassion

Nikki DuBose

Author of Washed Away: From Darkness to Light. Advocate & Ambassador.


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APA Reference
DuBose, N. (2017). Depression doesn’t mean I’m broken, it means I deserve compassion. Psych Central. Retrieved on December 14, 2018, from https://blogs.psychcentral.com/model-recovery/2017/01/having-depression-doesnt-mean-im-broken/

 

Last updated: 28 Jan 2017
Last reviewed: By John M. Grohol, Psy.D. on 28 Jan 2017
Published on PsychCentral.com. All rights reserved.