Today I find myself struggling with the depressive element of my illness. I felt compelled to express my feelings, however clumsily, in this short poem the writing of which, as always for me, is a cathartic experience:
I wake late, my alarm powerless to rouse me from morbid indolence.
For the first few seconds all is well.
My mind is serene and unruffled.
But then a rapid and ferocious transformation ensues.
I am cruelly cast down into the depths of gloom.
Overwhelmed with torpor, my apathetic body is inordinately heavy.
Limbs are too heavy to move without a struggle.
I lie motionless, gazing at the featureless ceiling, wishing I could be somewhere, anywhere, else.
Tears well within, sloshing around, threatening to overwhelm me.
But I manage to choke them back.
I am drowning.
I force myself to get up, my body resists.
Mind fixated on the negative, it revels in all that is unconstructive and off-putting.
I look to the future – it is cloaked in darkness.
The present is too painful and raw to contemplate.
The past is a litany of failure and missed opportunity.
I am trapped.
Everyday noise overwhelms me.
The slightest noise is an unwelcome intrusion, echoing inordinately loudly through my head.
Conversation is avoided, e-mails are unanswered and ‘phone calls ignored.
I am afraid to go out.
I look dishevelled and broken.
I am alone.
Entombed in an emotional sarcophagus,
I cannot escape.
God cannot reach me.
I am lost.