FEET IN CONCRETE

FEET IN CONCRETE

By Joyceanna

Depression is like feet in concrete. The more you try to move and get out, the more it hardens. You constantly wiggle, scream, cry, until someone hears you to pull you out. Then everyone around tries to come to your rescue. They grab your hands, to your upper arms, trying to pull you out. Your family is one; they’re nagging, pleading with you and at you to try to help yourself out, but it’s hopeless. They give up on you, you’re stuck in concrete.

Then the friends come along, they too, try to help you. No offense, friends are not as strong as family. Blood is supposed to be thicker than water, so I heard. A real good friend is not suppose to judge you, that’s a friends oath, so I was told. Then they disappear as well. They don’t stick with you, even though it is your fault, you tell them to leave, but they shouldn’t take you seriously. They don’t seem to understand that it’s the illness talking, not the real person. Then you look down at your feet, and you’re still in concrete.

And there’s the meds and the professionals. Professionals, they think they can help, what a joke. They’re just there, to collect money from you. And pretend that they care. They should get an Emmy for the acting jobs that they do. What they really do, is to make you talk, which brings out so many open wounds. They’re like a salt shaker, the more they pour (make you talk) the more it stings (makes you feel like you want to die more). Now, about the meds. I still feel heavy on my feet, but at least it will allow me to want to leave my house, become a part of the world. It’s like “fake it, until you make it”.

But, then I start to lose a bunch of weight, and afraid tell to the doctor, that you have eating disorders now and in the past. Then they may take it away from you and give you another pill that would cause you to gain weight; and weight gain is a (And to gain more weight ,which is the) big part of your depression to start with. When you do lose a lot of weight, you give yourself a break, and actually starting to like what you see in the mirror, for once. Then that good feeling is shattered, because of jealous family members, who nag (and they nag), telling you, that you’re losing too much weight. And now (even though), the cause of you getting out of your house, because you lost the weight, its now making you feel bad again.

Then something happens, and you can’t take your meds anymore, can’t afford them. Everything starts going down hill again… You gained all the weight back, and a lot more. You get embarrassed from it, so you don’t leave your house, you don’t go anywhere, anymore. Not even go to the store to get simple things or personal things that a woman needs every month. Then you feel like a failure: as a wife, a mother, a friend, a housewife, and a person. You feel trapped. And sooner or later, you look down and realize that you’re no longer in concrete, you’re in quicksand, and you’re whole body is sinking fast, and now, no matter how loud you scream and cry for help, no one can hear you. You’re all alone. You realize there’s no HOPE for you. It’s over!

THE END!