The Controversy Surrounding My Depression

I vividly remember the day I marked my canvas with a broken razor blade found in the bathroom cabinet. The day was gloomy and coincidently foreshadowed the darkness I was about to face. Despite being accustomed to the symptoms that accompanied my depression, nothing could have prevented my irrational outburst. Earlier that day, a sudden rage erupted within my being and sinful thoughts aroused. Infuriated and senseless, I grabbed the blade, empowered it and gave it the life it required end mine/to slide across my forearm in a seamless motion. Multiple cut wounds that were parallel to one another began to take shape and my blood began to seep through.

I felt rather psychotic within that moment because I was enduring an immense amount of pain,
but all I seemed to acknowledge was how much my slit skin resembled the fur of a golden tiger. It was a soothing and pleasurable feeling but short-lived to say the least.

The urge to harm myself was evanescent and only crossed my mind…

Wait…

It never crossed my mind.
It just occurred as though my body only accepted the concept of tranquillity once the deed was done. The daunting experience lasted no longer than a blink of an eye, but undoubtedly felt like forever. Time progressed and eventually I returned to my full senses. I was no longer imprisoned by the force of depression but knew that I would remain deprived of my power. I began to believe that I was my depression, and my depression was me…we became one.

I genuinely dreaded my beliefs but I would have been a dim-witted imbecile if I chose to enter a battlefield unarmed.

Several months had gone by and my days continued to proceed in a cyclic manner. They never eased up nor worsened which created a sense of optimism within me because it occurred so frequently that I was forced to fight back.

Forced to understand it, and with understanding came the realization that I no longer had to accept it.

During one of my sleepless nights, I realized that when we are comfortable in our own skin we are under the impression that we have found ourselves, when in actual fact, nothing is set in stone. Our characters will constantly develop over time and multiple factors will influence the outcome. In this instance, my depression caused a metal shift to take place and my character altered. The change was sudden, but I had to allow the transition to take place eventually in order to
progress.

When the time was right, I booked myself at a rehabilitation programme to get the necessary help required ad I now live to tell the tale.

Depression fit me like glove that demanded to be worn with every outfit. It made a home within my being; a comfortable one, to be precise and seemed impossible to escape. Until I moved out.