I wrote on Monday about how I had struggled through a depression this past weekend. The last two days I’ve come out of this depression, but it still leaves a mark, a shadow of the darkness that consumed me.
When I first start coming out of a depression I feel annoyed, angry even. Angry at myself for being weak, even though I know I’m not weak. The depression isn’t me, it is just my brain being irresponsible with its chemistry. Stupid brain.
Along with this annoyance, this anger, I also get a burst of energy as my apathy dissipates and my interest and enjoyment in the world around me rush back in. But like a sugar high, this burst of energy is temporary, soon to be replaced with a profound tiredness from the emotional and neurochemical journey I’ve just gone on. I feel like I just want to sleep for days to chase off the cobwebs that were left behind.
This feeling of being in the shadow of my darkness will eventually pass too. I’ll emerge the other side and the darkness will once again seem so foreign, even though I know it is just waiting to creep back in. For in the shadow of my darkness is the fear of its return, its ravaging effects still so recent. And this fear turns to anxiety, joining the other worries weighing upon my mind. When will the next one strike? What will the darkness ruin next time?
I am in the shadow of my darkness now, and I’m okay, getting better even. But that shadow is still there, and I know the darkness will be back. But someday, someday I hope to step out of the shadows and into the sun. Because in the shadows of my darkness there is fear, yes, but there is also hope.