And Everybody Hurts Sometimes.
{source}
By AJ Cadavedo
R.E.M. sang, “And everybody hurts sometimes.”
It’s true; it isn’t just a song line. So this pain, this mighty, scary pain is not something people can brush away — not even my friends. This isn’t something I invented out of boredom.
This isn’t just another reason to waste ink for poetry and prose, and painful quotes that I can make into art photos and post on Instagram.
This thing that is really more than pain, and is never less than emptiness, drives me into a vast nothingness that my educated mind and trained heart cannot fathom to fill with anything worthy of my time and energy.
Oftentimes I feel like I’m walking on a slippery slope at the edge of a rocky cliff that can surely off me once I fall. This thing, I’m afraid, is valid.
Ever since I told my world the story of my depression, I have been carefully treading in hot and cold waters — sometimes I feel like I’m floating serenely, some moments I feel like I am being choked by giant waves that don’t want me to survive. This thing is not just in my imagination.
If this isn’t real, then how come I burn with every tear that wells up in my eyes? Maybe what’s in my mind is too dark to become a reality, but how do I explain this coldness in my heart that springs up every waking moment? How do I grab on to hope that I no longer believe in?
There are many things about this thing that I can’t properly explain — I don’t know if I will ever be able to. I don’t know if I have the patience to truly find out the how, or why, or what do I mean, when I say, “I can’t stand being myself anymore,” or “I can’t wait until I’m gone from this world.”
There is just this thing. And it hurts all the fucking time. And when it doesn’t hurt, it leaves me out of breath — motionless and dumb.
But I found out something that’s probably one of the most difficult parts of this.
When depression drags you to its core, some people — even some who are closest to you — may never understand why; may never be willing or never be able to; may never see that there is a kind of pain that can keep you down on the ground for so long.
And there will be times that every word they say out of ignorance will feel like a kick in your ribs, or a jab in your back while you’re down there eating dirt and crying dry tears, while screaming empty air to nowhere.
I never knew that some people who I thought would hold my hands could tell me that I look like I’m playing the pity game or that I put myself in this, I should be able to fucking get out.
How do you recover when you hear a friend tell you, “Why are you telling me this if you don’t know what you want me to do? You should never have involved me.” Is offering a shoulder and a listening heart too hard to do, my friend?
When I don’t know how to fight what I’m going through, how can you expect me to explain it to you? There are days that I don’t know how to be a friend to myself, and in the process, my friends can’t be friends with me either.
It’s true that people come and go. But when you’re depressed and confused and feel like everything’s going wrong around you, people who leave you behind leave something even more painful than goodbyes.
They leave your wounded soul broken into many more tiny pieces that you don’t know how to mend. And maybe — just maybe — that’s when the depressed, empty vessels we call ourselves fade away and never recover.
(This post is part of a poetry and prose series called Pain on Paper that I’m doing to help me recover from depression. My name is AJ, and I’ve been dealing with this thing for almost a year now. Thanks for reading part of my story. Please be a kind and patient friend to anyone who’s going through difficult times. You don’t know how much your presence, heart, and help could mean to anyone. Stay loving and keep holding their hands.)
*****
AJ Cadavedo is a poet, blogger, and marketer with a deep love for music, poetry, stories, football, and dance. She enjoys both fun and passionate conversations but also loves solitude and the peace it brings. You can read more of her work at her website.
#HaveALittleUnderstanding
Comments
Latest posts by Rebelle Society (see all)
- Cemetery of Tears. - November 22, 2024
- My Identity Journey: What’s in a Name? - November 22, 2024
- Cyprus: A Magic Place That Feels Like Home. - November 22, 2024