Like many writers, “I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by.” Douglas Adams really hit the nail on the head with this one, at least for me. I know I’ve raised plenty of hell for others with my tendency to leave some things to the last minute, but often it’s that sense of urgency that serves as the catalyst for producing my best work.
Most days are difficult. I mean, it’s better now that it was at some points in the past, but I know that I go through peaks and valleys. Not every day is a particularly good day. And when days get stacked together full of work and stress, and I can’t stop for a while and let every thought leave my head, those are the worst days. The days where I switch to autopilot except for the really important tasks at work or in class. But things are better now than they were in the distant past.
Two o'clock in the morning. My mind pops awake, and the thoughts of what I should have done and what I could do better (the thoughts I avoid during the day and push to the side) come barreling in at full force like a bull coming out of its cage. The thoughts spin in a cycle, as if they are on a merry-go-round going around and around, only to wave at me as they are going past, never taking the time to stop and get off so I could have a moment of rest.
This week, we heard stories from the Abbs family and their on-going journey through the trench of depression (and anxiety)—stories of struggle but also hope. We hope these additional resources offer strength and encouragement to those who are also in this trench, no matter how far along you are. Please feel free to leave additional suggestions in the comments!
What is it like to be in a house where four people with four distinct personalities suffer from anxiety—and most of us have had depression, too? Let me put it this way: some days, it is really hard, especially when all of us have our anxiety up. It is kind of like living on a melting ice floe—thank goodness that is a rare occurrence.
I am fifteen years old and a sophomore in high school. I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) when I was in 4th grade. Now that I’ve covered the basics, let me tell you about my journey through anxiety and depression.
It started when I was in 8th grade, near the beginning of the school year. I thought life was going pretty well, but one day—and I don’t know why or how—something in my brain snapped.
It is January 2007. Perhaps February. And I am in pain. Inexplicably, my left knee has bulged up to probably 150% of its normal size. About every second or third step down with my left foot brings a fresh shot of pain up my body. I cannot fully bend my left leg. Going down a set of stairs is a rather comical sight to watch, I’m sure, were it not for the pain. I have to practically slide down one or two steps at a time sideways, my left leg extended and my hands holding onto the railing.