Sometimes its all too loud.

Clinical depression is a funny thing (heavy sarcasm). I have had the best days of my life recently – spending hours with my family and soaking up all of their love, reminiscing about the good ol times when curfews mattered but being reckless with your friends mattered more at my high school reunion. I spent countless hours surrounded by happiness and love and yet, I woke up this morning and felt dead inside. I used to get hyped up about checking in and writing about my mental health because I could finally show myself that I was slaying the dragon that was slowly burning me from the inside out and I am. The proverbial dragon is alive and well and I am dying.

I woke up the morning and I couldn’t move, I could barely breathe because every breath I took hurt more than the one before it. The soft snores i’d grown used to, the snores that reminded me that I was loved and cherished, felt too loud. The constant buzzing of my morning work reminder felt too loud, my own heartbeat felt too loud. The noise in my head was so loud it felt like i was drowning.

It took me 30 minutes to physically remove myself from my own bed. Barely functioning, I am reminded how a few hours ago I was hunched over on the bathroom toilet sobbing. Sobbing because the noise was becoming too much. Sobbing for the girl I want to be, the girl I thought I was finding. I cried tears for the Breana I have been fighting my demons to become. She’s there but she’s hidden. I cried because I am understanding that fighting depression and understanding my mental health will always be a marathon and not a sprint – I will not wake up tomorrow and be magically cured and while that is a bitter pill to swallow, its going to be okay.

I am learning how to be okay with off days, the days where functioning doesn’t seem possible and dying feels easier. The days where going to work is a tug of war and crying on the bathroom toilet is the norm. Where the noise inside my head doesn’t quiet long enough for me to feel and understand true peace.

I am learning how to remind myself that I am alive.

Living takes courage. Everyday I choose to put one foot in front of the other, I choose to stay alive because dying doesn’t sound as easy as it once did. I have a lot to live for, I’m just working through accepting that some days, the noise inside my head wins and when that happens I need to find a place that’s silent and remind myself I lived. I lived because I wasn’t ready to die and while my depression may have me wrapped in its arms I’m stronger than this.

So, today wasn’t one of the good days and hell, tomorrow may be much of the same but I am here. I am alive and I am going to find a happy medium where my good days outweigh the bad – I am going to find the Breana that is hidden deep within me and when I do, we’ll slay the dragon that has its hold on me. I know we will.