The bizarre thing about going to therapy is that you become quite aware of what’s going on with your mental health. Before therapy, I could sink into a depressive state, blissfully unaware of what was happening to my mind and emotions. Now, I can see it happening.
I’ve watched myself slowly disappear over the last few weeks. Little by little, I’ve lost the sparkly magic that makes me special. I’ve stopped wanting to see friends, stopped responding to texts in a timely manner. Sleep doesn’t come to me at night, so I find myself drifting to sleep during the day when I have things I need to be doing.
My depression and anxiety are extremely high functioning. I carry on meeting deadlines, cooking meals, exercising, going to appointments. To an outsider, I probably look like a very happy and productive individual. But I can see what’s happening on the inside. I can see my body keeping up with all of life’s many demands, while my mind and my spirit quietly retreat to some unseen place. A quiet place. A place that’s lonely, but safe.
And I don’t really know what to do with that.
I like writing things that have purpose, that leave you with some sense of direction or next steps. But with this one, I think all I can offer is a hand on your back — a conspiratorial touch that lets you know you’re not alone, and that you need to keep going. I think there are a lot of us like you and me. Many of us who know embody the “the show must go on,” razzle-dazzle spirit, while slowly disappearing on the inside.
It’ll pass; it always does. The sparkle will come back. You’ll stand, fully visible, in the sun once again.
