I don’t know who I am anymore.
I don’t know who I’m supposed to be, I don’t even know who I used to be. I haven’t been that person in years.
Depression has changed who I was, who I am. It’s changed my relationships, my outlook, my life. Who I am mentally and physically. It has robbed me of opportunities and changed the path upon which I walk.
Supports are there, yet the more I reveal, the more I feel scrutinized and judged. Criticism, anger and resentment lurk in the shadows until they can no longer be contained. When they strike, they tear me down. Words turn to poison that lingers for days, destroying more of the me that I once was. I am a smaller person. My defenses have weakened, my armor dented and crumbling at my feet. I have not an army to wage the war within, while shielding me from the arrows of afar.
The days pass, until only a trace of poison remains. On I go, spending the new days waiting for the night so I may retreat to the comfort of dark silence, for a few hours at least.
Yet a beacon of light remains, unscathed I can only hope.That little light that shines on to help me find the way out, to reach for when there seems nothing else to hold on to.