My Sea of Gray

I had a draft I was working on for a couple days explaining how much my mental health had improved. I was beginning to feel genuine happiness again, which is something I hadn’t felt in many years. The walls I’ve put up for so long that prevented me from letting people see me had finally been dismantled, stone by stone that’s been held together by concrete.

I was functioning. I finally felt human.

I hate to say that I will not be posting that draft right now because I have found myself slipping back into the depths of my sea of gray. I call it my sea of gray because when I think of the color, I associate it with numbness. That is what I’m beginning to feel…

sea
(source: google/giphy)

When the numbness sets in, I become a recluse. I want nothing to do with anything. I simply exist. I feel there’s nothing in the world that’s remotely worth getting out of bed for. I know that’s not true. It just feels that way. That’s one of my worst feelings to experience. Next to the abrupt implosion within my chest that others like to call severe anxiety attacks.

A few months ago things had taken a turn. My depression and anxiety attacks had become a part of my daily life, again. I could barely function at work. It was ruining my relationships with my friends, family and my significant other. It was bad enough I was mentally drained, but throw insomnia into the mix and you have yourself a concoction of intolerable despair that not only can be damaging mentally, it creeps into the physical also. That may sound dramatic to some people, but it’s not when you’ve lived it.

I wish I could keep going and explain more on what I’m feeling and experiencing, but my mind keeps trailing off and I can’t focus anymore. I’ll have to come back and continue writing on this later. 

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