Cracks in the Facade

The couch that at times can be so comforting and inviting can also be a trap that weighs me down, refusing to let me leave. The very thing that I look forward to is often the thing that I can't escape, that my brain, body, and heart won't let me escape from. This is depression. It is very hard to explain and even more difficult to understand, but it is how I've felt since 2003, the year in which I was officially "diagnosed" with a condition that I will battle throughout the entirety of my life.

I imagine this sensation is similar to what drowning feels like. I can see the surface, all I have to do is stand up and I'll be safe, but I can't. In these instances I am often above my body, looking down. I can see myself as a wet rag on the chaise section of the couch, so weak and sad...and not belonging there. If only I would dry out or at least be hung up elsewhere then maybe I could flee. But I can't. This is a dampness that does not go away. 

It is easy to tell me to get up. Move to a different chair. Go outside. Do anything other than what I'm doing in these moments, but I can't. I am paralyzed in this space that is so comforting, soft, and inviting. I am paralyzed in my home. I am paralyzed in my mind. I am paralyzed in my heart. It is an invisible paralysis that I bare alone, a paralysis in which I can move, but it is movement that occurs only below the surface and the more that I fight the less air that I have.

I think it's time to re-arrange the furniture.

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