Its funny how a series of small events can build up to make one massive, jaw-droppingly horrible experience you wonder if it's ever possible you'll recover from. You know you will, but the older you get, the more you wonder: Will this be the one that puts me away for good?
It begins at birth. Thats bad enough to begin with. Being born is stress enough to make me not want to have children of my own as to not put them through the anxiety I feel when I realise: THERE IS NO WAY OUT EXCEPT FOR DEATH. Even writing and re-reading that line sends my emotionally fragile head into a colossal whirlwind of severe anxiety. And to be honest, makes me want to vomit a little. I completely blame my parents.
Anyway, then comes the 6 trillion dollar question that none of us can answer: How will it happen? Will it be all la-di-da-lovely and I die in my sleep with loved ones surrounding me, and I won't even realise that I have died and stride forth to the other side into a land of bliss and puppies? Or will I be maimed and all my internal organs squished beyond repair in a car/plane/falling vending machine accident, leaving me to suffer a horrible, terrifying death, which in effect, keeps my spirit bound to this Earth for all eternity?
Hang on, hang on, I digress.
Going back to the series of small events I mentioned earlier, being a sufferer of depression from a very early age I have learned to take note of the warning signs that can trigger my fragile little brain into full blown episode of depression. It begins with being unable to sleep. Which is all the frickin time for me. Tired = grumpy = more emotional than usual. Then there will be a small trigger. Some random person being a douche bag, or a fight with a family member over putting the fork in the wrong spot in the dishwasher, a screaming kid that you want to smack but can't, even though they totally deserve it because they're annoying and screamy and have no boundaries. Then it seems like Mr. lack of sleep and Mrs. being grumpy like to kick people when they're down and draw unto them - President End of the world.
Now, El Presidente only comes when he knows you're world is on the brink of collapse. But He's good. He waits and waits and waits some more, right until that perfect moment, and then, ta-da! He arrives with full force, bringing devastation and destruction at every possible moment. One thing after another, but this time, not just little things like arguments over forks and broken nails, nonono. It's the big league now.
Things like losing a friend for exceptionally stupid reasons (or in my case, three), and having a ridiculous fight with your best friend, all because of a facebook comment, (I mean, really?), And your ex calling you every day with his dramas and saying "you have no idea" about depression. (Oh, really? I don't?). And also, realising you really are meant to spend the rest of your life alone because the thought of anyone being close makes you physically ill. And then, of course, the real kicker, a letter from the Government, when after applying for disability support for a valid and Doctor acknowledged reason, denying your claim for something they mixed up and there is nothing you can do about it because you only got the letter on friday night and you now have to wait till monday to call/abuse some poor unsuspecting person who really doesn't deserved to be yelled at, just to see if there is anything you can do about it, even though you know they will spend the next 2 months fucking you around like they have been the previous 2 months.
BAM.
BAM.
BAM.
BAM.
BAM.
And then it explodes. Ka-fucking-pow.
Anxiety + Stress + Exhaustion = complete and irreversible brain shambles, that will stress you out so much that your body literally shuts down.
As if all that other crap wasn't just fun-tastic, now the merriment really begins. The zombie like appearance, incomprehensible speech patterns, constant stream of tears, anxiety attacks which include, pacing, crying and waving your hands around making you look like a mentally challenged person while being so nauseous, yet frustratingly enough, unable to vomit, along with a complete lack of motivation to do anything aside for the aforementioned.
Will it last a few weeks? a few months? .........Years? Not knowing how long you will be in this shaun of the dead type state is almost just as bad as not knowing how you're going to die, though making the sweet release of death sound so unbelievably appealing, even if it is a horrible and gruesome end. Anything has to be better than this lonely, dark, empty void that is my head.
Again, I blame my parents.
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