Inside a tornado

Imagine you were falling....everything a downward spiral... You keep looking for a way to stop from falling into the abyss, but every branch snaps, rope burns, and landing caves in, giving way to the eternal darkness. You look up, see people, but every time you try to scream for help, your voice doesn't work...you don't say the right words. Everything becomes a blur. You don't remember how long you've been falling. Soon it feels like weeks, days... you have lost control. Meanwhile, life goes on with or without you.

My therapist calls it brain fog... you know, when you can't seem to remember things which happened with a few weeks...months, etc. I just remember being so lost. I was here, but I wasn't. This was depression. I knew it the moment I woke up and tried everything to clear the fog and gain control. This is the depression those stupid, cartoon commercials don't show you. There's an uglier side of depression that robs you of everything... not just keeping you from playing ball with your dog, smiling with your spouse, or enjoying gardening.

This is the type of depression that sends you into a downward spiral. Everything could go right, but then when something goes wrong, the world caves in around you. It doesn't even have to be life altering...actually, life altering...no wait...even a daily disruption would send you into a state of shock, leaving you in a comatose state. I'm talking little things: the restaurant running out of dressing or whipped topping ending up on your Starbucks drink when you asked for no topping whatsoever. You rage, you scream. Why? Because if you don't, no one will listen. During the outrage, you can't say a word. You feel you are being taken advantage of, but can't do a thing to stop it. So you rage. You throw things. You force people to hear you've been wronged. Can you name it? Can you fully explain why you are being so irrational over something so tiny as whipped topping or no dressing? No. There is no explanation other than you were wronged. You are helpless.

And that's the word: Helpless. You are a mouse...a tiny mouse. No one hears your words. So you have to rage. Who will hear you? You can't even hear yourself.

Suddenly, you wake up. You are calm. You realize the damage you've done: the things you [could] have broken, the words you said, the screaming, the [thoughts of] lashing out on your own body...it's out of body. Why did you act so irrationally? Depression.

Nothing set it off...you were fine and then one day you weren't. Maybe you were tampering with your meds, maybe you were in your zone... That's the scary thing about depression... you know it's lurking. You know it's there, but when does it strike? For me, it always happens at the most inopportune times.

What I do know is that when this happens it takes days...weekends...even up to a week to get me back on track. Even after I'm fully back on track, I still can't fully remember details of events during a depressive state which I would normally remember if depression hadn't taken hold.

So, why do I tell this story now? Why relieve such a horrible time?

Does this happen to you? Does this happen to your child? Your spouse? Significant other? Partner? Friend?

Maybe they are too embarrassed to talk about it...don't have the words...don't want to relive it. I just hope that by sharing this, someone doesn't feel alone. You may need help, but you're not the only one who goes through this. You don't have to suffer alone. If the first person you tell doesn't listen to you, find another one. It took me years before getting the help I needed. I didn't know how to ask...who to ask... As someone told me a while back, "Everyone needs a little therapy sometime."