A prelude for all those people that read what i have to say. This next post is something i wrote for English class. I was given the first sentence and was told to write a piece following that sentence. I also took my very first blog, and threw it into the mix. This is an extremely metaphorical and descriptive post of two of the biggest stages that i faced in my depression. There was times that i felt like i was drowning, and suffocating. But, there were also times when i had more anger than i knew what to do with. I am here writing this now from a place that those two stages, although dear to my heart and the person i am, are now memories of a time that i got through and that i survived. I want everyone reading this to know that you can get to where i am right now. You can make it. Just keep fighting. Your struggles do not define who you are. You do.
The Elements Within
Fires. They grew unbearable here. It was so hard to breathe, but I had become accustomed to lack of breath. I felt suffocated often, and in order to make it from one moment to the next, my nose felt as though it had to be glued to the ground—progress was always abruptly halted. I was petrified and unable to move. That made me fume. I was enraged that I felt trapped in a smoldering home, misplaced in a world that had grown cold. My fury was all consuming. I found myself thinking about being trapped which resulted in my anger, which then resulted in hopelessness, which then resulted in more rage. The cycle was as obvious as the flames around me, and I was alone, knowing that I would have to save myself.
But, it wasn’t always like that. There were other periods that the fire was a foreign and abstract idea, and the world wasn’t cold. I was. I had spent most of those years articulating my thoughts in ways that could help those suffering the same way as me. It was easy to get words out in one way or another. I could clearly explain how I felt on a daily basis for years. It was as though the words just fell out of my head and onto the keyboard. Either that, or they dropped out of my mouth as heavy as a weight lifter would drop a clean jerk Olympic lift. That is exactly how it felt. I felt the weight lift off of me when I perfectly expostulated my life struggles. It was tactical and never messy.
July third. I woke up that day in a frenzy. Everything felt heavy. It was like an ocean was weighing down on me. I still remember the feeling of suffocation I felt. I felt tired and weak and that caused me despair. It was a day of melancholic madness. But floods-- they became bearable that day.
I encountered a writing forum on a social media cite. There was a prompt picture stating “The writing challenge today is to write a piece on the picture provided. There are no rules. Simply, begin writing.” The picture was of a deep sea diver, submerged in the ocean, standing on the edge of an enormous crater in the ocean floor. It appeared juxtaposed—it was sandy and comforting, and suddenly, the ground he was standing on had literally dissipated into nothing but a black hole in front of him with no apparent end. I glanced over some of the other pieces that had been written and found them enjoyable to read. But, to me, they were missing something. So, I stared at the photograph prompt again for a moment, took a breath, and write I did. It was as though a wave of emotion had come over me and I was not afraid to take the plunge.
“Rock bottom. It had finally reached me. I did not feel anything anymore. I couldn't. There was no joy, no love, no happy ending. Life seemed to consist of an eerie wavering of my own thoughts. I was lost in the depths of the darkest ocean. I sank, releasing my utmost melancholic emotions. There was no way out. As my suffocation surpassed metaphorical and I descended into the depths of my own mind, I realized that I was surrounded entirely by a sea of my own thoughts. Then suddenly, the sunlight faded in all of its entirety. I could no longer see any light. As the last beams faded into oblivion, I realized for the first time that I missed the very light that I had lost. I missed the one thing I never felt that I could see. I found myself in the darkness of the ocean. The darkness gave me the greatest epiphany of life. It was an epiphany that propelled me forward. It is the one that forever impacts me-- the one that surfaced when I was diluted in a sea of darkness and obstreperous thought. It was the first time in my life that I realized that darkness wasn't for me. It was the first time that I realized that I wanted to live.”
When I had finished, I remember looking up from the piece of paper and crying uncontrollably. That feeling of the weight lifting off of my shoulders had just taken over my entire body. What had I had just written? I had never explained it in that way before. What had started as a gentle wave had turned into a tsunami, and I strangely felt an eerie sense of accomplishment. Unfortunately, there are four elements, and his brother fire was new to me.
My name is Morgan and I have a passion for writing, just as I have a passion for supporting those that suffer from various mental health concerns. I fully believe that each day is brand new and we can do with it as we wish. Mental illness is crippling, and you may lose the battle but that does not mean that you will lose the war. Keep fighting and know that you are not, and never will be, alone.