My Familiar Companion

It’s been a while, my friend. You often leave me for small periods of time where I feel more like myself, and less like the person who has no control. You walk out just as quickly as you walk back into my life.

When you are here, I lose control. Even if its temporary.

We are old friends, who often find ourselves in the darkest of places, in the worst possible ways in the depths of my mind. I never had a relationship quite like the one that you and I have had—depression my familiar companion.

Three days ago you told me, “It’s going to a long few days my friend.”

I didn’t believe you, and you laughed in my face. You told me we will be in a familiar place and that I would not be able to shake you.

I didn’t believe you.

That first day I could barely lift myself out of bed. Most of that day I didn’t and you took my appetite away. It wasn’t meant to be this day. I told you, “Fine, I will give you this day, but tomorrow it will be different.”

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You laughed and told me that only a fool thinks this way.

That night your friend anxiety visited me, but I was prepared with my little white pill. For a small moment, I almost let depression and anxiety completely take me over. That would have been fun. But it wasn’t to be. A small victory.

I barely got through that first day, and then the next day you wouldn’t let me out of bed. For hours I lay in bed not really sleeping, and not really living. I was just there existing in the body, but not in mind.

It was late afternoon before I finally found some courage to fight, but it short lived. A little bit of food. Something to drink, but you called me back to my bed. There I stayed for the rest of the day.

It wasn’t all bad. I played some video games. I binge-watched Netflix. I listened to music. I did a little homework in bed. It was nice to finally be done with school. Yes, maybe that is what this feeling is, relief. But I stretched myself too thin this time around.

It has been a long journey these past few weeks. Medicine changes. Severe anxiety. My panic attacks were taken to the next level. I was lost, oh so lost for weeks in anxiety, and there you were just waiting in the wings. You knew you could overtake me at any moment.

When the time was right you consumed every fiber of my soul, again, my constant and familiar companion, you were back.

Yesterday was supposed to be a day of cheer. Christmas and family ready to celebrate together. But you wouldn’t let me. It wasn’t time for me to leave you. You had consumed me and sentenced me to be forever in this darkness. There I stayed for most of the day. Barely eating. Not doing anything productive.

There was a moment where a bit of creativity, or the lack of any real writing, that I was able to break through even for a small moment. I wrote a piece for my blog, and it was what it was, just a plea. To let it be known that depression was once again a part of my life.

I often ask why do you do this to me depression, and you often answer, “because I will always be a part of you.”

It’s true. You never really leave me. You come into my life at the most inopportune times when I need to focus. You take that best parts of me. You take my will to be creative. To write. To function. I know I must fight you.

But not today depression. You win today. For how long no one knows.

My familiar companion. Taking me to the deepest and darkest places of my mind. I might as well embrace you as a family member. For that is what you are to me.

J.E. Skye

Photo Credit:

unsplash-logoNoah Silliman

unsplash-logoWarren Wong

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43 Replies to “My Familiar Companion”

  1. hey son i got a glimpse of what you go through yesterday, i tried so hard to feel some joy but it would not come even after seeing my baby r***, so now i am afraid that i have run out of joy i cannot seem to summon it at will anymore and my fear is that it is gone. just going through the motions right now.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. I didn’t write last time, because I felt I came late to a party of understanding responders who all gave you good encouragement and advice.
    I don’t know how deeply you sit in your hole, how able you are to peer at the sunlight without assistance. I do know that no amount of positive affirmation will change what is.
    Look up, then, at the new day’s light. Look at your replies. Get something that you like to eat, like a good chocolate. Don’t binge-watch: watch a favorite show or a funny one. Don’t stay in bed: rest because you like bed (if the bed’s not comfortable, try the couch). Depression isn’t winning: you’re convalescing like every other person who has taxed his capacities.

    Liked by 4 people

  3. I totally get where you’re at. I’m afraid I’m hooking up with my “friend,” too. I’ve been able to get out of bed the last few days, but haven’t left the house or showered or even changed out of my pajamas. Red flags. I hope my friend’s visit is short, and I hope the same for you.

    Liked by 3 people

  4. Bipolar here, as well. I already don’t really care for the holidays…mix that with me just coming down off of a very rare manic episode, knowing I’m going to be crashing any moment now. I can feel it coming. Soon I won’t want to leave my house for weeks. Ugh. Thanks for writing this piece. Stay strong.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you for reading this post. Depression sucks and it hate its control on me sometimes. I hope you find your way through it in the coming weeks. Stay strong as a well.

      Liked by 3 people

  5. If there was a loving body there to give you a hug maybe that would convince you life was worth living again. I had a Christmas like this one, 10 years ago. Its taken 7 years to be able to get up after an hour or an hour and a half battling with myself in the early morning. There were days it took me until 3 to have breakfast. Slow progress over years with therapy and reaching out and being real has helped.. I reach for something now. Sweeping the leaves, making a nice juice, doing breath work, forcing myself out on a long walk. I just wanted to send love and encouragement. Christmas can be very tough. Hugs. Day at a time, just take a little step each day. x

    Liked by 3 people

  6. Beautiful piece. I love the way you talk about depression as an old friend, separating it from yourself. Like someone who would visit and with the lucidity of knowing it will go away too. It always does eventually and it is what I try to keep in mind when it visits me even if it is very difficult sometimes. I find it useful to read things I have written while my companion was “out of town” so to speak. It gives me hope. I am not ready to call it my friend though, this ongoing presence that seems to be waiting in the background of my life. Best to you and thank you for reading and liking my post.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. You are welcome, and thank you for taking a moment to read my own blog post. This was an interesting post to write because depression has been such a major part of my life. I have felt as if it is a separate part of me that decides to visit me at different times.

      Liked by 3 people

  7. It’s very creative to personify depression and anxiety this way. It is even humorous to converse with the two human mental state and emotions like they were your friends. It’s true life does get this way for us and I can relate to your feelings. I enjoyed reading this post from you.

    Liked by 4 people

  8. Great post. Very interesting way of expressing your experience too. The scariest thing is it always seems to sneak up ever so slightly lurking in the shadows.

    Liked by 2 people

  9. I love this. We never escape the dark parts of ourselves, only push them aside. We dull them with chemicals, but they never go away. They are us.

    Thank you for this

    Liked by 2 people

  10. Hi James,
    That is a well written peace about how depression really is you can go to bed fine and wake up in a deep depression that paralyzes you for god only knows how long and then it reseads back into your mind tell it wants to come again. ❤️✌️

    BY FOR NOW

    Like

  11. Sound like, you’re, hit by another one of the depression side of your bipolar, it’s, really hard, as i’d experienced this sort of a low, and you feel like you’re, buried too deep inside that deep, dark hole, with no way out, and, there’s, no easy way to manage this, but to just, ride it out, hope you feel better soon…

    Like

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