The Rollercoaster of Depression
As someone who has experienced depression from time to time, I often do not even recognize it (due to being so far in it) until I am coming out on the other side. The extreme ups and downs feel like an emotional rollercoaster.
Strapped in and afraid—adrenaline on 1000, screaming at the top of my lungs because I don't know what else to do with the overwhelming emotions I'm feeling at this moment. I've been on this ride before, the feelings are familiar–extreme. Fast heartbeats, fast thoughts, loud noises, chaos. I want to get off, but I am already in motion, nowhere near an exit ramp. No control. Until I finally feel it slowing down. I can catch my breath now. My heartbeats find a less intrusive rhythm. I made it to the end of the ride. Relief! And a weird sense of pride because I did not die. I lived to meet a memory *keep breathing, you're okay* I internally whisper to myself.
My relationship with rollercoasters has always been interesting.
I would see them violently go round and round, up and down, and be terrified as a little girl. Yet, there I was in line. Ready to take it on. Every time. In a way, I liked the loss of control, the adrenaline rush. It made me feel alive after suppressing so many feelings in my day-to-day life. It took me off autopilot. The rollercoaster woke me up to my humanity. It reminded me how sensitive, expressive, and emotional I was. The parts of me that never felt safe in my reality. The parts I depressed (pressed down) as a defense, but on the ride, there was no depressing anything.
After recently coming off another metaphorical rollercoaster, I gave myself a safe space to rest in it, examine it, and explore it. How did I get here? What is the moment trying to teach me?
All these emotions. All of this energy.
I was in this state of depression because I was not allowing myself to be in expression. Every time I have felt out of balance, disconnected, fragmented, and chaotic, it has been due to me not allowing myself to unfold and become. A result of me not letting my feelings and emotions be expressed. Instead, I tried to barricade them as they attempted to escape. The exposure, the vulnerability of letting them roam free, was something I've often denied the adult me–and “little me” has suffered in the process.
Creation has always been my release, my exhale, but somewhere along the way, I started holding my breath. Expressing the fullness of me became this daunting task. It always sounded like a good idea, only to be followed by doubt, resistance, and fear.
The resistance has finally gotten my attention. The awareness is present. Now what will I do with this revelation?
To be continued…
