I have almost always been overwhelmed by life.
I remember being just nine years old and looking into our cutlery drawer, thinking that if I cut myself with one of those steak knives, maybe *then* someone would… help me. I didn’t know exactly what I needed help with, but I knew that everything was too much. I was desperate for an escape of some kind.
Over the years, I’ve learned to put words to the emotions I couldn’t express as a child.
I spent so many years depressed, overwhelmed, stressed out, angry, and numb. I constantly struggle with feelings of inadequacy and self doubt. There are many things I’m good at, yet I have to convince myself every day not to give up. Some days, it doesn’t work.
I have been able to move past being suicidal, thank God. Even though I still have bad days, and some days I get so mad at myself that I’m not “in control” of feeling blah or inadequate or hopeless, I can thank God that I no longer believe the lie that my life isn’t worth living.
I know that He has a plan for me, and it’s a good one. And I can embrace my absolute powerlessness to overcome my flaws.
I’m here, at Overwhelmed, to remind myself, daily if need be, of all the good things I’ve learned over the years. The recovery principles that keep me sane.
I’m here because writing and talking about my experiences provide therapy for me. Bringing all the darkness into the light sets me free from it.
I’m here because I’m learning that I can’t just “get over” it. Even though I can keep my depression at bay, it seems that the big D and I will always be co-passengers. But the more I practice my recovery principles, the more I acknowledge my frailty and accept it (instead of beating myself up over it), the better I can cope with my days.
I’m here in the hopes that my honesty can be an encouragement to others.
I’m here because I don’t think anyone should be ashamed of depression, or feel alone in it. If there’s one thing I’ve learned through being honest over the years, it’s that others are guarding the exact same secrets.
We are not alone.