Escape From Darkness

NOTE:
This is not my cry for help. This is my attempt at understanding and hoping to help others to understand my son and other's struggle.

Escape from darkness

This is a place no one dreams of going; well perhaps in their nightmares. This state of being. I had heard of this place for years. It never sounded like any place I would want to visit. The deepest darkest part of one’s own mind. Those who had been and returned said it would change your life - the way you perceived life - the way you think. Even your priorities change. A visit here has a profound effect on its guests. It's not a place that one would want to visit. Certainly not a place to return to. Yet, unavoidably, many return. I didn’t understand. If it was such an awful place why did so many people go there? In fact, at times it seemed they sought it out?

I visited one time; purely by accident, I wasn’t paying attention and I found myself there. I’ve been there several times now. I wouldn’t call it a visit though. More like an internment. Once you’ve been there something attaches to you, and you are never free again. You often think you are, and once you’ve escaped, you pray to never return. You don’t want to go back. I never wanted to return. I didn’t like it there. Too dark for me, and I was so alone. I’ve been several times, though I fought the whole way there, and I rejoiced each time I escaped.

They were, right you know. Right about depression; it changes who you are. I think the first thing I noticed after my first visit is how my priorities changed. My whole life changed. Life has become so much more precious to me. I learned to fill each day with new enrichments. I feared going back to that place. I feared even more not being able to escape. I resolved to make myself strong. Prepare to fight. Fight for my life. Each day I would add value to my life, giving it meaning. Something I could draw strength from when I feared the battle could soon be lost. Each time I returned to this place, this bottomless, empty pit, I would fight harder. For it seems to become stronger (so must I) between each incarceration. That’s what it was you know; a kind of imprisonment. You have no will there, no dreams and no desires. I hate going there and always pray I do not become an eternal hostage, as so many before me have. Nothing is real there. No good thing can be found. Only despair. Each visit seems to be longer than the last and more intense than one could ever imagine.

I wish I could cut the cord that binds me to this place. It sickens me that I cannot escape eternally. It catches me unaware. I get comfortable; almost enchanted in my life, completely in harmony with life, I almost forget this place. Then it ensnares me again. You know what they say about all roads lead to Rome? Well depression is my “Rome”. Because no matter what path I take the next turn could put me there.

Although the time is vague in my memory I can almost remember when I didn’t believe this place existed. I didn’t believe it to be “real”. Now I know it is real. I can’t touch it. But I can smell it. It smells like the end of mankind, like the ashes of all dreams. No one can touch you there, though they reach out for you. You can see them. All those people that hold you dear. You reach out for them too, but no contact can be made. You must fight this place alone. Soon you feel abandoned. It is one of the few things you can feel while you are there. You dig into the recesses of your mind to find something that brings you joy. It rarely works. You keep trying though, just so you don’t give up. Your whole being becomes heavy. It is difficult to move. Soon you find you don’t want to move. It requires too much energy. It is difficult to think too. Your mind ends up in a fog. Nothing is clear. It is a struggle to stay conscious. It gets so dark. You hear people talking to you, coaxing you, encouraging you. You try to draw strength from them. Then your own mind betrays you. It starts to taunt you. Chanting “no one loves you”, “you’re unlovable”, “they want something”, “it is all an act, to protect appearances”, “you’re more trouble than you’re worth”, “you’re bad, you’re ugly…..” soon you become too tired to even try to fight. You find you feel bad, real bad. You can’t feel the good things. You can no longer feel love, either to give or receive. You find you can’t feel joy, joy doesn’t come here. You realize that you do feel. But you feel abandoned, alone. You feel powerless, drained. You no longer feel despair, you’re too tired.

Something screams inside: "Please make it stop! I want to go away...let me die!” Then, it’s ever so soft, is it the same voice? Perhaps, but it’s almost a whisper, because it is from so deep inside, but I hear strength: “Can’t give in…I must win…I must escape.” I draw on that strength; ever so small as it may be. I find it begins to grow. The more I draw on it the more it grows! I begin to feel strong again! I want to escape again! I must escape! I feed into that strength until suddenly determination joins us. Together and alone I begin to climb out of the darkness. Fighting demons of despair along the way. I hear myself begin to whine: “I am so tired…I don’t want to fight anymore…my life isn’t worth it anyway…” Then another voice – no, it’s the same voice “I don’t want to stay here…I want my life back…I want control…”

Then the true battle begins. You have to force yourself it’s no longer a matter of “want to" - it’s a battle within and you must win. The argument within continues, the voices alternating in their strength. The one voice throws your own demons up; past mistakes, failures, tragedies and struggles lost. The other shouting to remind you of past strengths and new strengths.