The Darkness

The first time I remember feeling inexplicably sad, I was 5. I was walking through the grocery store with my mom, and I was wearing my favorite shorts and tank top. I wasn't misbehaving - I was being good. So I couldn't understand why the stock boy was giving me a funny look. Mom said it's because I was so cute, but I didn't believe her. Kids at school were already making fun of me for my weight. If kids at a catholic school would say mean and hurtful things to me, why wouldn't this person at least think them?

I've been thinking about that shopping trip a lot lately. 

I've struggled with my weight, depression and anxiety my whole life. Right now, it's worse than ever. 

I used to cut myself to make the pain stop-to shut the demons down. It helped, until my mom saw the marks on my wrists. I could always see the pain in her eyes. She didn't know how to help me, and I think that hurt her the most. So I started cutting where she wouldn't see it, but it wasn't the same relief and I always ended up going back to my wrists. 

You see, medication only does so much. I'm married to the man of my dreams, and we have a great little life together. But the darkness is always there. It calls for me like the wolf howls at the moon. Sometimes I can't shake it. 

Unless you struggle with mental illness, I don't think you can ever fully understand what it's like when the darkness takes over. It's hard to understand something you've never had to deal with. I feel like someone else. It's like I'm sitting on the sidelines, watching someone else ruin my life. 

Now, at 30 years old and over 300lbs, I can feel the darkness more than ever. It tickles my feet as I sleep. It pours over my body like the water in a shower. It flows through me like the blood in my veins. And if I let my guard down even just a little, it engulfs me like a wildfire. 

I've spent days crying. Doing everything I can to resist the urges to cut, even just a little. I know it would bring a momentary relief, just like I know my husband would see and I wouldn't be able to stand the look of hurt on his face. So instead I wash the dishes, or take a dip in the pool. 

People like to tell me they understand. Everyone has bad days after all. What they don't understand is this isn't a bad day.  This is my life. This is my struggle. They are always there if I need someone to talk to...until I need someone to talk to. Or maybe it's just me. I can't listen to one more person tell me that, "It'll be ok!" or "It gets better!" or, "If you would just open up and let God in...", or my favorite, "I guess I'm lucky I've never had to deal with that. But I understand."

How do you know it will be ok?

How do you know it will get better?

You know nothing of my relationship with my God.

You understand?

You understand what it feels like, waiting for the other shoe to drop?  

You understand being terrified to leave your house because you might accidentally run into someone you know?

You understand canceling plans because you literally just can't today?  

You understand being so sad that you can't' even manage to take a shower or change your clothes for days or feed yourself?

You understand driving down the road resisting the urge to wrap your car around a tree?

You understand doing everything you can to not do the only think you know that will bring even a little relief?

How could you possibly understand something you've never had to deal with?

Then the sun shines, and the darkness subsides. I smile. I laugh. I have fun. I'm fearless. 

But the darkness is always there.....waiting.....