By Joshua Blake
I’ve felt like something has been missing from my life for years, and it wasn’t until recently that I’ve become aware of my depression. I feel like I’m trapped inside an invisible cage with my thoughts. It’s as daunting as it is exhausting. Everyday I fight an endless battle in my head, crying for someone to save me.
How did all of that start? I’m not sure myself, although, I’d like to say that it started when I was four years old. I recall being in my room crying about why I was different. I knew then that something didn’t feel right. I felt lost then, and I hoped my future would be better. Maybe I knew back then that my disability was as debilitating as it is now. My entire life has been dedicated to fighting the naysayers. I’ve accomplished everything that I was told I’d never do, and I’m still upset. I am my greatest naysayer, which is why I’ll never overcome my disability.
When I was sick a few years back with Ulcerative Colitis, I didn’t have any thoughts pertaining to my disability. My illness distracted me. I almost miss it at times. Long story short, I started a new medication that seemed like a great solution to my colitis.
Ever since I started taking this new medication, Remicade, I’ve noticed that my demeanor changed. I felt moody and confused at times. I didn’t think much of it until my mother said she researched it on the Internet. Supposedly, depression is a side-effect of this drug. Or is it? My doctor told me that he’s not convinced that my depression is caused solely by the Remicade. I thought about that, and it made a lot of sense. I have Cerebral Palsy and I also have colitis – both of which can cause depression.
When I look at it in that perspective, I feel a bit relieved. But it doesn’t take away from the fact that I am depressed, and that I have been for a very long time. I feel isolated from everything and everyone. I distance myself from friends (sorry I’ve been M.I.A.) and I feel lost within my own body. It’s such an odd, fascinating feeling. I try to make sense of it and I can’t, which is when things get frustrating. I cry at night when I think too much or I’ll write poetry when I’m lonely. There are times when I can’t do either because I feel stuck, making me want to scream, but no sound comes out. I can’t sleep until my mind has used all of its fuel, until all of the thoughts stop, so silence prevails.
I decided to go to counseling or therapy – pick your poison – which helps a lot. It’s nice to have someone to talk to; practically wonderful. It’s a way for me to get piece of mind from myself and from others. Some may not understand that – people may say “You can talk to me” – but it’s more complicated than that. I could tell someone all of my problems, fears, and worries, and they still won’t help. It’s not because I don’t think they care. It’s because I’m not going to listen to their advice. I don’t want advice, I want understanding.
I’ve had a lot of problems throughout my life, and a lot of insane situations because of them. If I can’t understand my problems, how do you expect me to take one’s advice? So, for the time being, I’ll continue to go to therapy, start taking an anti-depressant (soon enough) and hopefully I won’t feel restricted by my mind. I just want to be free, which feels far from never…Far From Never By Joshua Blake I’ve felt like something has been missing from my life for years, and it wasn’t until recently that I’ve become aware of my depression.