Monday, September 19, 2011

This post has been a long time coming and isn't easy to write. When it's written down for the world to read, it becomes real. When it becomes real, it becomes something I need to deal with seriously and responsibly. I'm not sure I'm ready or able to do that right now.

I'm going through a major bout of depression right now. The world as I see it is dark and heavy. It's hard to smile even when I want to. The things that I enjoy doing seem pointless. I fall asleep quickly, only to have nightmares and night sweats and body/head aches when I wake up. I don't feel like myself; I feel like someone who's been consumed with sadness and grief, yet can't possibly begin to explain the reasons why I feel this way. Nothing (besides my love life) is going wrong. I should be perfectly happy right now, and yet all I feel is tired and down all the time.

I've know that I haven't felt like myself for a few weeks now, but being at my pulpit this weekend was the straw that broke the camel's back. I literally needed to force myself to smile and be happy for 3 days straight. I tried so hard to be the Tracy they all know and love, and I realized quickly that faking joy and excitement leads to complete and utter exhaustion. From Friday night on, I longed for the comforts of home and the space to take off my smile and just feel the way I want to feel.

I've been through bouts of depression before, and I know what I need to do to pull myself out. At this point, 1 week from Rosh Hashanah, 5 months before my thesis is due, 7 months before my senior recital and 8 months from job placement, I have no other choice but to force myself out of this funk with medication and therapy.

But I don't want to do it. I don't even want to leave my apartment. Ever.
I don't want to admit I have a problem.
Because then it's real. I am the fat girl who's depressed and alone with no one to lean on. I am the cliche I've been fighting for the last 4 years.

Try writing a thesis on body image and self-love when you feel ugly and unlovable. Right now, the very idea of writing about this and presenting a recital on the topic makes me feel like a huge hypocrite.

There are no words to describe how badly I need a hug right now. A real, unselfish, all-encompassing embrace that makes me feel safe and protected and loved. And someone to tell me that everything's going to be okay and I will move past this terrible feeling and be able to feel happiness again.

Intellectually, I know I'll be fine. I've beat this before.
Emotionally, I'm not so sure.

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