Hate. Fear. Sorrow.

A look into the depressed mind, and it's need, it's ache, it's plea for hope.

She leaned against the door heavily and slowly slid to the floor. She listened hard and heard nothing. She almost sighed in relief as she drew her knees tightly to her chest. Tears were streaming down her face smearing eyeliner and sweat. Her chest ached and her head pounded like some kind of tribal drum. An empty, swirling desperation ate it's way through her stomach. She clawed her hands through her hair, pulling the tangles free that had stuck to her forehead. The agony, the pain, the abyss was at it's worst now.

A black thing that lived only in the shadows of her mind, clawing it's way to the surface, to ravage her soul. To tear it to ribbons and leave her in an empty heap on the floor, begging God or whomever might happen to be listening for death. It's cold embrace must be better than this, anything would be. Even continual nothing. Even damnation, she sometimes thought.

She reached over and turned on the hot water, resting her forearm on the side of the tub as she let her fingers play in the brutal down pour of the water. It burned her and she pulled away quickly and for some reason this make the empty place in her stomach ache with some kind of tortured need.

"Please. Please please please. Just make it stop. Just let this end. Just let me die. Let me end this." She sobbed, barely able to breath.

She stood and began to undress, forgetting to twist the cold water on. A fresh wave of hot tears burst from her as snot and saliva mixed on her chin. She disgusted herself. Hated herself. Feared... herself. She turned and punched the bathroom door, the dull pain in her fist somehow relaxing, even if momentarily. She punched it again. Then again, harder. She took a deep breath and unleashed, punching and slapping with both hands, losing herself to it.

She stood and stared at the door. The inanimate thing that had so patiently taken her abuse, her tears briefly abating. She turned and dropped the rest of her clothing to the floor, refusing to look at her reflection in the mirror. Unsure she could handle the truth she would see there. (Or was it the lie?)

She slid the shower curtain closed, ignoring the golden swirls across the soft, midnight blue background she usually found beautiful. And sometimes even soothing. She reached in and pulled the lever up, reversing the flow of water from the faucet to the shower head. She waited a moment, breathing deeply the gathering steam, letting it clear her head. Finally. She was able to think.

She stepped into the shower and was immediately burned by the searing heat of the hot water. She jerked back into the coolness of the corner, swatting at the water as one would a disobedient toddler. Tears welling in her eyes she berated herself. Once again feeling the well open up, despair reaching for her, anxiety, hopelessness, and dread rushing to her like old friends. In a way, maybe they were. She pushed the shower head to face towards the wall, wincing at the burn, but rejoicing in the fleeting moment of distraction. Adjusting the water she shrank back to her corner, resting her cheek on the cool tile she tried to fight the depression, the monster that wreaked so much havoc on her life, giving no thought to her schedule, her family, her friends... her sanity.

She remembered what Seth had told her last time. To find her thread of Hope, her Light. To cling to it, so as not to lose herself completely. She finally stepped under the water and let it wash over her. Lifting her face to the drops, reveling in the feeling of the literal interpretation of her sorrow being washed from her body. Feeling cooler. Cleaner. Saner.

The pit in her stomach had stopped in it's overwhelming growth. It wasn't gone, but the growing was at a standstill. And for this she gave thanks.

She had found her thread of hope, her light and that's exactly what it was. Hope. There was always hope, even if it wasn't for her. For some child, some other sad woman, some old man, there was hope. And in her own miserable, lonely pain that was a salve. Even if temporary. Because if they could find hope, then maybe someday she would find a way too. And in wishing for that moment she had found it. And she smiled.

Author's Note

I've been dealing with depression for many years, as many in this world are. My anchor is in my God, my children, my husband and the single fact that there is hope in the world.

Somewhere there is always hope.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

"She had found her thread of hope, her light and that's exactly what it was. Hope. There was always hope, even if it wasn't for her. For some child, some other sad woman, some old man, there was hope. And in her own miserable, lonely pain that was a salve. Even if temporary. "
A powerful story. I like the internal thoughts and description of struggle. All of us hold demons and fear. Many different way to repair. I like the above lines. All of us grasp for positive light and hope. Thank you for sharing the amazing story.
Coyote

[love, lorey]

Thank you!