Witness me, will you
(over)sharing depression
Dear you,
It feels strange to write here. I have forgotten how it feels to write (here, anywhere) and this newness seems cold.
I am writing out of an intense want to be witnessed. Hold your questions and wisdom (I am not ready to seek it yet), and lend me your ears, please?
I am a words-person thanks to the voice in my head that constantly narrates every single thing that I see,hear,think,feel,etc. On most days, that is. I can also quite precisely identify the moment I step into the marshy swamp of low-ness (aka depression), and away from words. And sometimes I stay for longer than I thought I could, longer than I can bear to, longer than it seemed possible.
It feels like being stuck in a wordless silent scream. With a heavy dark fog of sadness lodged in my chest, all I can manage is to grunt, sigh, screech and wail.
It makes me water. Imagine a blob of sadness in human form. It stands on the threadbare balance between two opposing currents - one that wishes to push away the restraints of body and explode into as much smithereens as everything that hurts, and the other that pulls you into yourself until you are reduced to foggy nothingness.
Don’t get me wrong, it is not all badsadmad. There is still joy, grace, love, laughter, lightness. There are brief encounters with warmth. It refuses to stick, glides over me, moving through me as (if) I am water. It is easier for words to find me during these encounters however brief they are.
Sometimes you need to point at what hurts and stop yourself from racing to the good part. And this was my attempt.
P.S. Please recommend movies/series that awaken your inner cackling-witch or giggly child or both.
P.P.S. I wanted to send this letter out before I send out anything else, but I am too excited to finally send the several drafts I typed out over the last couple months. How soon is too soon to write to you again?
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