I'm stuck in the tardis

Posted to my wordpress blog site, and now i shall post it here.
This has actually been in a rough form, for quite sometime. Inside that big old brain of mine.
It is under the cut, no friends filter's. I am in one of my "if you don't like it, fuck off" kinda mood's.

Depression, the cage, guard and tormentor.

It has often been said to me, by several people that I appear to have become my depression.
Now this may sound like a reasonable assumption to make, but I find it to be an irritating way of describing somebody with one of the more severe form’s of depression.

To the outside world, I may appear to be a sullen person. Somebody who embraces the darkness that depression brings. But that is an impression of me that I would like to change over time. I tend to keep my emotions under the mask I wear. But if you careful enough, you can see the cracks in that mask. Mainly in my eye’s, which few people bother to look into.

A few people have commented on the physical look of my eye’s. But very few have delved much further. In fact I was quite shocked when a certain person said she could see the pain and suffering in my eye’s.

I have suffered to a certain extent (if you‘ve not bothered to ask me probing questions or read anything I‘ve put on the internet, then I shall not explain it here), but I am fully aware of the people who barely earn enough money just to buy enough food to survive, or those who have no food at all.

Now this brings me to depression. It is an all consuming disease of the mind.
Everything negative emotion and thought I’ve ever had, have been turned into weapons.
Often used against me…..

“He sits here in his mind, wondering about life, what he should. Feeling hopeful for the future. But then the dark clouds gather and smother him and shut out the light.”

I mostly stay in my bedroom reading and thinking about all sort’s of different things. Which often leads to me reusing words or sentences I have used just 5 minutes before. My mind is awash with idea’s and emotions.

Now this where the depression comes in. It takes the negative emotions and thoughts. And turns them into weapon’s against the real Kevin, the light in the darkness if you will.
Once I am sufficiently subdued and put in the cage. Then the darkness comes down like a thick fog, smothering the light. I am tormented about every little mistake or indeed good things I have done. What if the people who say they like you, only do so to spare your feelings ?
You can’t possibly do that, you don’t have the brains for it…. And it goes on.

So what appears on the outside is the depression. But it’s not really me. I’m fighting to break from my bond’s, to defeat my guard and tormentor. In short to break free.

I sometimes manage short periods where I can see the light, but then the fog comes right back down upon me. Memories of things I’d rather forget, come into focus.
Not just wisps of memory, but full on flashbacks with smells and sound’s.

My tormentor then shows all the negative aspects of what goes on in those memories.
Isolates me from the truth of those memories. Even the events surrounding loved one’s death’s.

Perhaps I do need to tackle the issue of my grandmother’s passing. I’ve been running away from it for so long, I don’t even remember what her voice sounded like.
All I do remember are those horrible pictures of her, laid out in a coffin. Dead.
Until somebody who you love deeply, dies. You will perhaps not quite understand death.
Is death to be feared ? Yes and no. I fear loved ones dying, but I don’t fear my own death.
I shall embrace it whenever that days comes. I see nothing to fear from death, other than the unknown and seeming darkness of a light going out.

I have been called morbid, but I don’t think I am. I believe in celebrating life.
But I was but a child when death reared it’s ugly head in my childhood.
One minute my cousin Sharon was there, cracking jokes and then the next minute I was told she had gone to a better place or that she was dead. I can’t quite remember.

I also remember when my mum’s brother died. I saw the pain in her eyes, and decided that I needed to be strong for her. Probably explains why I never shed a tear during my grandmother’s funeral.

How does this relate to depression. Memories like the ones above have power in two slightly different way’s. One is negative where you unceasingly think about death and forget to live.
But the other is the acceptance that death is a part of life and that life goes on.

Sometimes when I am in what you could call one of my deep depressions that take weeks for me to pull myself out of, all I think about is death.

Other times when I’m reasonably well, I think fondly about the people who have gone on.
Then a small memory flashback will set me off back on the path to darkness.

The person I want to be is the light, and the person I appear to be on the surface is the depression. They are two entirely separate beasts. I’ve said many times that people see small glimpses of the real me as it were. But the light that is that person is shut down. Emotions become tool’s of submission to the beast that is depression.

So you can sit in your ivory tower and think that I have become my depression. But I have but a few words for those who do. Compassion is a word often used, but rarely understood.

This is probably a mess of thought’s and rambles. But that is the nature of my mind.
The light is trying to break through the chinks in the darkness. Perhaps one day it will break through and I shall be free. That’s what I hope anyway. And where is life without hope ?