Depression

With all the chaos in the world right now, it seems that more and more people have some type of depression. Depression is a thief. It steals your joy, your happiness, your self worth and in many cases, unfortunately, it can steal your life. Depression can cause a person to feel so down and hopeless that they think the only way out is death. Suicides run high in severe depression.

I have depression and I know how low it can bring you some days. Since I found Christ, that has changed. When that dark cloud tries to come my way, I just remind myself what Jesus has done for me and chose to be thankful for all I have. It is not easy, I will admit. There are times I have to fight to control that depression, and that is okay.

I have a very close family member that is fighting depression on a daily basis. Most days she loses, a few days she wins. For her the best way to fight her depression in the past (she has now found Christ, but her depression was severe, to the point of self harm. So it is a work in progress) was to write about how she was feeling.

I am going to share a few of her poems about depression. Keep in mind these were written in the depths of the dark clouds, so they are deep and dark.


A Climatic Journey:

That rush of Butane before the forest burns.

The earthy aura before the last nail seals my fate.

The empty feeling of a three hundred year old church.

A once vibrant person inhabited by decay.

Earth worms scrambling from beneath.


A shadowed, chilled room.

The surface of the water growing distant.

Velvet tapestry flowing in the breeze.

Smoke rising further to the sky.

A fly encapsulated in a web.


The sun rising above the clouds.

Flowers growing among a cemetery.

Transparency of scarification.

A tree shedding for its new life.

A battlefield overgrown with grass.



Slonedgang:

Consumption of evening glow heightens her soul, a transparency so just, you

can see within self-passing. No, it was not mere reflections, she had consumed the stars, burning with envy of her purity. For eternal gardens if upholstery waft the essence of rose and lavender serenity. The frequent breeze of stabilization to the environment provided comfort to my wondering mind, a friend accompanying life’s opportunities act as the very foundation of my captured thought. Represented through her was myself, my sunglasses, my music, my scent, my adventure, my vibe. Though if not the true identification and origin of this ever developing bond were to land within my grasp, I would not have discovered life.

I wrap around her backside, KIA the name in which I sought fit, lies engraved. Ladened with foreign object, it was beyond beauty to the standard eye, supporting extra elements of surprise. Exposing the bedding of her bosom, a small wooden emblem peers from dark unknown areas. Plastic engulfs carpeted floor, and a phone lie abandoned within a cup holder. Alongside an oceanic wave contained in plastic radiates an aura of cotton candy blueberries. SEAGRUMS! It was to be expected, a gift from her, my years of love had shown worthy. I grasp my slug ridden claws further toward its direction, basically feeling that cool dose of immobilization.


Scrapping increasing in volume interrupts my celebration with impending fear. Dropping my head against the window I spot clearly raveled strings of cloth flailing in the breeze in various directions accompanied by bouts of wailing and throat scrapping. The Perpetrator had stringy white hair, plastic bag I hand, and a stick in my facial direction. Heart rate ceasing, I continue my voyage through KIA with influence of oceanic bliss.


Formaldehyde-

Deriving but a dream, A passing fancy, an incantation An ethereal inspiration

Of most fantastically ugly Serene and flirtatious

Unveils its roots by evening fall Observing the land of decay and eternal slumber Where old foes of persuasion crawl

Amid sepulcher entrancement Pacifies thy mourning

Divorcing iron shields of delicacy Reserve thy malignant, ambiguous burden Emerge ‘till gleam of days legacy


Dear whomever is concerned:

Surface value of the intellect among my fellow undergraduates cannot fathom the depths of despair I endured before penning this to paper.

I have no doubt the wittedness and analysis among you will conjure some overarching conclusion, just know that no amount of hypothesizing or analysis can conjure a semblance of empathy or vision of hope.

For I have walked the fiery depths of eternal agony, I have faced the pale skinned, yellow eyed demon himself. Absorbing torment, filling my entire soul with rage.

My returning voyage through oceans of blood, wailing survivors, remnants of decaying loved ones, proved wasteful.

I was not stronger, I did not fathom myself a hero, a survivor.

As I gaze into the red, transparent mirror, disassociation takes hold.

She has always, forever will be repulsed by her physic, her internal being.

For the Mantra echo’s all around her, “The body is a temple”

“Not worthy of worship”

She bares the bruise and deformity inside her as proof

“I was overlooked, in want of validation and security, in turn as led me numb”

Brown, burgundy eyes search the burnt orange skies for solace, turning up short.

“Will my life always be so! A rag doll thrown to the side, a handkerchief brought for use, only when I’m felt needed, stained crimson, black mold festering.

Seeping closer to the surface, the souls called her name, dark, blistering mass of human physic, exposing red and pink muscle in crevice of occasional cracks, diminish her with cold white stares, breathing smoke, exhaling maggots. Inside a voice awakens “I will perish, this is the end”.

In desperation she lunges backward, “I beg of you ancestors, lead my eternal being in your path. Don’t let me die unavenged!”

Pale grey hands emerge from the red sea, seizing every angle of her body, dragging her hazelnut locks under the water.

During the fight for air, flailing her arms about she recognizes those black hands, in a sever state of mania eyes dart down the front of her body, she is naked, black, charred, cracked, and very much alive.



Again, these were written in the depths of despair. Depression is a joy and life stealer. But there is ONE that can bring you out of the pit of despair, no drug, no drink and no person can give you true happiness. Only Jesus can save you!