I'm Not Depressed, But I'm Not Okay Either

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By Brittany Christopoulos

I can feel it in my soul: I’m not okay.

I’ve noticed myself starting to slip into a dark hole and can feel it gradually getting darker.

I see my reflection in the mirror crying more than I see it smiling. I’d rather be in bed alone than in the company of the ones I love.

I have no reason to be so miserable, yet I can’t force myself to be happy. 

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Part of me wants to talk about my problems, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I don’t know how to even express how I’m feeling or what I’m going through.

It’s not like I don’t even know where to start, because I do. But why should I express it to people who are only going to diminish my feelings or try to judge who is struggling more? 

I’d rather suffer in silence than be told, “I feel bad for you.”

I’m watching all of my friends succeed while I’m stuck in the same place. They’re falling in love, getting promoted at work, buying homes, and making money moves. Meanwhile, the only move I’m making is to go to my fridge.

I’m happy for them — I genuinely am. But I don’t think they believe I’m being genuine because my negative aura is just too strong. 

When I try to do the things that spark a little bit of light in me, the light flickers. I may be happy for a while, but that feeling subsides quickly.

I try to go for walks to make myself feel better, but instead, I wander helplessly without even looking for cars. If I get hit — oh well.

And that thought scares me, that I literally just don’t care at the moment because I’m not okay.

In fact, the thought of death absolutely terrifies me. 

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Why do we get brought into this world and why are we taken away so fast? What happens when we die? Will heaven be like I’m living in a dream or a continuation of what life is like on Earth?

My heart literally drops when I consider that one day I won’t be here anymore and I’ll blackout for the last time. 

I don’t want to end my life, but I know I’m not happy with mine at the moment.

Truthfully, I know my problems aren’t bad enough to complain about. I have a roof over my head, I’m only relying on myself instead of a family, I have people who love me in my life, and I have food and clean water to survive on.

Why can’t I be grateful enough to appreciate what I have while others are literally dying for the things I have and take for granted?

I know what rock bottom is like; I’ve seen it and I’ve been in worse positions than where I am now. But I still can’t help but feel the dirt burying me deeper and deeper every day this goes on. 

I’ll continue to act like I am to shelter myself against judgment during a time of vulnerability. It’s easier to do so and to avoid making people uncomfortable.

I’ll have plenty of fake smiles. I’ll repeat, “I’m okay,” until the cows come home. And if I act differently around people and they notice, maybe I’ll say something.

I just want genuine support, not pity. 

Things will get better as time goes on and I know whatever funk I’m in will eventually dissipate. Until then, I’m just trying to make it through each day and pinpoint why I am the way I am.

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Brittany Christopoulos is a writer who focuses on relationships, mental health and wellness, and self-love. For more of her writing, visit her author profile on Unwritten.

This article was originally published at Unwritten. Reprinted with permission from the author.