On Edge

Depression hurts.

It hurts physically, but even more, it possesses a kind of soul crushing pain and agony that comes from knowing that your situation is hopeless, that your future is in doubt, and that the only thing you feel is worthlessness. Pure physical pain would be so much better. That’s why you look at your reflection in the blade of a knife and really consider cutting yourself, because at least then you can have control of the pain.

These are irrational thoughts that I had during intense episodes of depression, and they were made worse by the fact that I knew and understood that my thoughts were flawed. That leads to disgust. I was disgusted that I had such a great life but couldn’t shake off the knowledge that I was hopeless and so incredibly filled with intangible and unexplainable sorrow. It seems that everything is your fault, and try as you might to pull yourself out of your downward spiral, all you want to do is curl up in bed and sleep. At least sleep is somewhat of an escape, but when you wake up, things don’t look any better.

It becomes perceived loss of all control. You cannot control your outlook, and you are powerless to better yourself or your situation. You are afraid of confiding in close friends for the fear of being judged as crazy or ungrateful for the life you have, so you keep up the façade of a happy existence and bury the pain. But alone in the privacy of your mind, hopelessness is inescapable. The loneliness that results from your hatred of yourself is a constant barrage on you. That knife looks so tempting, like your own secret to finally have some control of your life. How sweet it would be to draw cold steel across your body, the last thing you have power over. It would hurt, but it would be your pain, something that is finally yours.

– ’15 OU Alumnus