Dear God, Where Did Those Stormclouds Come From?

I hate to admit it.
I have been doing well

better than well.¹Maybe a few months, which isn’t that long – but it is long for me.

There have been ups and downs,
life still throws me for a loop on a regular basis,
but overall I’ve had more up than down…
and I don’t remember the last time that was true of my life.

But for the last several days…
the dark clouds have descended on me…
the gnawing in my chest throbs
my brain feels so sloooowwww
balls and chains hang from my arms, my feet
and every move is a struggle.

I have been making such good progress
I am tempted to smile and keep on going silently…
I feel embarrassed that it has come alive again…
I knew intellectually that it would return on occasion…
but now it is here in the flesh and I don’t want it.

I don’t believe depression is my fault or yours.
But I still feel ashamed to be weak.
And that is why I can’t stay silent.

My silent shame projects shame upon others, who struggle like me.
So I declare it – here I am, world, and I am weak…
And I will refuse to be ashamed…
And I will refuse to shame you for your weakness…

I’m so happy for those of you,
whomever and wherever you are,
that live with the true face of peace and contentment

But for the rest of us, I take off my plastic smile
And let you know this is me.

The me I’d rather not be but am.
And the road to better is so much longer,
and so much farther…
And I grow so tired…

I’ve tried the usual remedies…
But the enemy is too strong…
My attempts to make it dissipate…
Dissolve…fall…lose…cease
Exercise.
Eat better.
Talk with friends.
Take a break.
Read.
LOUD music.
PUSHing through.
warm showers.
light therapy.
medications.
journaling.

But it clings to me and refuses to dissipate…
And so I wait…
I continue to throw my pebbles at the monster…
But they don’t seem to make a difference.

I’m not asking or expecting anything from you.
I know it is hard, especially for those who love me most
Not to be able to help me…
But sometimes the only way is through…
And through is a process over time…
A process from which
“…a little love in my life…
a little love in the dark…”
can’t
“kick start me and my broken heart”²From Rixton’s Me and My Broken Heart.