I know how you feel. I describe it as being in a abyss, it pulls you in deeper and deeper. You seem to have no control, mind or body. There is a small part of you, that still has hope that you have to cling to like a life line. For me it's prayer, I beg for god to pull me through and it works. I know it's hard (believe me), but force yourself to get up, if not take a shower wash up, go outside, breathe in the air. Get in your car or take the bus, get away from your house just for a little while go to a movie to the mall, something. It is too easy to stay in your bed when you are in the house. You were doing so well, on the right path. Yes it is hard as hell, but you have to fight your way back to that path. You can do it, because you did it before, now do it again. It starts with small steps, again but you can do it. Fight your way back to the living. God put us on this earth for a reason and equips us with a measure of strength. It's our job to find that strength.

then it all crashes-
the slap in the face happens; rejected by the woman I loved, a simple enough everyday event in the world. It happens to someone every minute, somewhere. These people grieve, pick up and go on. Oh, but I am different; me, of feeble emotions and frenzied reaction. I am persistently depressed, paralyzed with fear and cowering in total isolation. Fleeting moments of euphoria had been my only refuge for years. Where are they now? Here I exist between two worlds; dreams and my reality. A moment of less than euphoria would work.

What do you do when you can see nothing appealing on the horizon? When you've been there and done that with all the anti-depressants, doctors, rehabs, clinics, and jails. Perhaps a little distraction from my self deprecating mind, just enough to make it through another day of depression.

What happened, how did I arrive at this moment? The gradual spiral that seems to consume so many i’ve known, including myself, is generally a result of too much thought. I question everything too much. I am consumed by cynicism.

This thing, mental illness, this ugly thing, an affliction of the feeble; it has been my keeper for too long. I have not the will to defy its power. I am tired. The alcohol and heroin took all residual decency. They will not yield, only beckon me.

Why does my mind see monsters no one else can see? Why are my emotions so over the top? Why am I not capable of having a life? With or without answers, the reality is this; I am essentially worthless to the world. One can not live with absolute protection from feelings; yet that is where I exist and thrive.

I crash hard. My mind swirls with racing thoughts. Every rejection for the last 30 years visits my brain. Bad . . .Bad. . . . .Bad boy. Look what you have done. I am unable to move. I cower in my room and I stay there.

An education, a job, a place in the world; all of it gone, I have only my waking moments of thought; thoughts that race and swirl. Peaceful sleep, without dreams; I find irresistible.

What now for this frightened man, a little boy, if truth be told? Where does he go? Go forth, struggle; gain ground. It will all tumble again. Over and over the trudging and toil; until it swirls down around a worthless moment of feeling.
Where did it all originate? Have you heard the emptiness of silence…endless stillness…stretching out forever? Have you heard it? A single silent nothing; where so much else should really be. What is this thing, depression? Why? Why indeed.

Over 2 years clean and on meds the whole time. Why oh why do I crash now. I now believe it will happen over and over. The social security dudes are right. I am incapable of having a life. I am almost 50 years old. I have little time left. Must I be disabled, outcast and depressed.

I am afraid “this” is all I will ever be. So I ask in all earnestness, “why should I try to do anything?” my depression has always had the final say about my happiness.

Maybe she could have loved me if i'd done better.