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A Look Into My Own Fight With Depression, and Three Poems

I know what it feels like to struggle with depression. However, I never talked about it much until I started writing poetry.


The Introduction To A Hard Reality

What does it feel like to have depression? Well, I know. However, I never talked about it much until I started writing poetry. I didn’t care for people to know. So many don’t believe that depression is actually an illness. They cannot comprehend how someone could struggle with a degree of sadness that is so all-consuming that every day you fight not to swallow a bottle of pills just to end the pain of loneliness and struggle. They believe people can come out of it and be normal; make their own happiness. Some can indeed do that, I suppose. I have certainly tried. I try every time this depression hits me hard. I succeed in coming out of it, but at times happiness doesn't feel real to me anymore.

Confession: I Fight Alone

Having depression is a continuing battle of personal turmoil, in which even the one fighting cannot comprehend why they’re sad most of the time. I have known that I’ve had it since I was about ten years old. That is my confession. My parents do not even know I was this person that early on in my life, and I suspect they never will. They are the type that feels you can make yourself happy, or for god’s sake, let a doctor prescribe some pills to hide it. I say to hide it, because I never believed it helped it. I do believe that for some, it helps, but for me, I have always denied that. I’m not a dependent when it comes to drug use, or anything for that matter. I am the type that deals, and sometimes it works for me, but sometimes I do get down with such debilitating sadness that it is hard to keep going. Even so, I have pride in not reducing myself to take a drug. I do not want pity, so I am good at hiding from the world when I am in a bad way.

I'm Not Hiding Anymore, But Please Respect My Reasons Why. No Judgements!

There is a persistence I have within myself. A determination to fight a demon and win until something else kills me, but not it. It may be hard to realize for some; however, I have programmed myself to be strong. I know the times when it comes around the most; the times during the year that I feel the loneliest and lost. I know the reasons I have had it for most of my life, and as I admit there are times when it is so bad that the suicidal thoughts, the demon as I call it, enters my mind demanding and gung-ho to succeed that I get nervous, but I still know I will not let it win.

Therefore, I won’t hide completely. It’s time to tell my story. To stand up and fight for the misfits of the world, the ones who are forever the social introverts whom no one quite gets. Who have been bullied or made fun of, or left by a loved one, because they don’t completely fit into this world’s definition of what a normal society is? Well, I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to be normal. I never did. However, it was the lack of will power to fight others' judgements that made me continue to try for what is considered a normal existence in the human world. I don’t do that anymore.


I Just Want To Help Others

Unfortunately, the way I have lived through these things is one of the reasons that this terrible dilemma has stayed with me, but I can be happy most of the time now. I can fight better, harder, and not hide. I still don’t want to talk about it a whole lot, but when times come around that remind me, like September being National Suicide Prevention Month, I want to tell my story. I want to burst open like a piñata and spill my secrets. Ironically, I did not remember this month being the suicide prevention month. The truth is, a bout of depression kicked in about two weeks ago, and I have been on my fight ever since. I’m coming out of it again now, and I’m glad that it is a perfect time to share the depths of depression and suicide. I want to be a voice and face of someone who knows how it feels. I want to tell others that they are not alone, and please fight the good fight. Never give up. This doesn’t have to kill us. You can do it. We can do it!

No Pity Party Please

I started these poems in which I’ve posted here about a week ago. I usually finish fast and just publish and let the chips fall where they will. If what I write is accepted to be good, even halfway logical, I’m happy. However, this one was hard to write about. It is difficult for someone like me to lay one of my flaws out on the table for the whole world to read about. To show the side of myself, I never cared to. Believe it or not, most who struggle with this doesn't want to be pitied. I know a lot of people think that we want others to feel sorry for us, but I can assure you it’s not true. It’s not a pity party. It's more like a walk of shame. However, it shouldn’t be. It should be understood as something that can’t be helped. Depression can kill like cancer just in a different way. It’s a fight to stay in remission, and for a lot of people, they fight every single day throughout their lives. As for me, I consider myself one of the lucky ones. It comes and goes, and like I said, I found my own way to fight it.

This Is A Conclusion. It's Not The End.

Finally, I’m here to give props to poetry as one of my life savers. I may not be great at it. I never claimed that. I’ve only been writing poetry for a little over a year, but it was a welcome surprise when out of the blue, I decided to release my thoughts through poetry. Poetry is beautiful. It’s the purest form of expression. It gives hope. Poetry gives life to me. It identifies with me, and it wants to tell my story. It wants me to be heard and understood. It was a complete inspiration at a time of my life that I needed it the most, and now it’s oxygen I use to breathe. I don't want to stop breathing just yet.

Me During A Depression Episode


In The Depths of Despair

Breathe, breathe, I whisper

to myself. Don’t let the edge

you look over guide you down.

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Oh but how the dream of free

falling would feel. The

conscience of knowing I

couldn’t tell.

Jump and splat, and then

be gone, that’s how

I would end; no memory of


Believe me, if I could last and

go on, I would fight another

Millionth war and carry on.

Only another human life

here to dwell. Just another

human life and no one really


Where Depression Dwells

Where does depression dwell?

It dwells in the eyes of hazel


in sheets of a bed that out of a

window glare; up at a moon

with a sigh of despair…

when the sun breaks through it’s

still there. It holds me tight and begs

me to freeze…

stay here, embrace me, feel my pain.

I Shall never part until you surrender

my forever soul mate.

Depression dwells in a fight of

freedom from suppressing any

hope that will allow it to cope...

a double identity that you don’t

want. It connects its persona

and latches on.

Where does depression dwell?

It’s in muscles that once were


now they lag you down, drag

you down, from daylight til


Depression dwells in a numb

body of silence. In tears that

roll with no voice behind them.

Depression dwells in a mirror.

A face that stares back as a

Stranger comes nearer.

A person held hostage who wails

only inside...Help me, Please

Help me, I’m dying alive…

What A Difference A Week Can Make (Normal Me)


Bringing Awareness To Mental Illness


My God's A Fantasy

My life has finally given up.

It realized its fate ordered

from above.

I cannot fight this God

anymore. I have begged,

and pleaded, over lived

his scorn.

Why did his presence

not show up, when countless

times I needed him most?

So many judges when one

takes their own life, but

they do not understand

how hard the fight.

Pain does not play nice,

and I realize his purpose.

Some of us are chosen for

certain human exposure.

Some are lucky, but are made

to teach greed. Some are content

happy as can be.

Yet, some are picked to

dwell in a curse, to fight everyday

to teach others worth.

For it is lost souls that take

nothing for granted. We care. We

share; we see that advantage.

However, we are also the ones who

never seem to find a sense of joy, or

a settled mind. We are his poor ploys.

He has left us behind.

This content is accurate and true to the best of the author’s knowledge and does not substitute for diagnosis, prognosis, treatment, prescription, and/or dietary advice from a licensed health professional. Drugs, supplements, and natural remedies may have dangerous side effects. If pregnant or nursing, consult with a qualified provider on an individual basis. Seek immediate help if you are experiencing a medical emergency.

© 2016 Missy Smith


Missy Smith (author) from Florida on October 04, 2016:

Thank you, MsDora. That means so much for you to acknowledge why I chose to write about this. It was difficult-I cannot lie. However, I felt it was the right time to open myself up more and share.

Dora Weithers from The Caribbean on September 27, 2016:

Missy, I appreciate you sharing your story, and I do believe that you made a wise choice to write this article. I can only give you back the message you gave: "I want to tell others that they are not alone, and please fight the good fight. Never give up. This doesn’t have to kill us. You can do it. We can do it!"

Missy Smith (author) from Florida on September 24, 2016:

Thank you, Chitrangada. It is a very common illness now, and I foresee it getting so much worse if we keep dividing instead of coming together. It is really hard for so many to cope these days. I am so happy that, so far, I have been able to hang on to my own self determination. I'm definitely strong in that. I pray others who struggle will be able to find theirs as well.

Thanks again! Many Blessings! ~Missy

Missy Smith (author) from Florida on September 24, 2016:

I'm so honored, Hari. I remember reading your poem. It's very inspiring. Dedicated to the struggles one finds in life and the ability to grow from that. Thank You! Really, thank you so much!! :)

Chitrangada Sharan from New Delhi, India on September 24, 2016:

First of all I must appreciate you for your courage to write this hub! That itself means that you have recovered from depression and come out as a winner.

Depression is very common these days and there are many factors responsible for it. I would be lying if I say I never had this symptom. But one ' has to--has to' come out of it. I am glad you did and your hub will be an inspiration to many who may be facing this.

Speaking out, talking to others is very important . There is obviously someone in every one's life who cares and who can help the person to come out of it. Rest is all self belief and self determination that I have to, I will and I must come out of the ' depression' and live life and love life.

Thanks for sharing!

Hari Prasad S from Bangalore on September 24, 2016:

Hi Missy,

I dedicate this poem of mine to you. You are a real fighter.

- hari

Missy Smith (author) from Florida on September 23, 2016:

Shanmarie, thanks for reading this and for also bringing support and encouragement. I appreciate it so much. :)

Missy Smith (author) from Florida on September 23, 2016:

Oh Wow! I want to thank everyone for sharing with me your own stories of this disease. Whether it was a story from personal experience or a loved one's experience you witnessed and had to live through with them. I am truly touched by everyone's courage to reach out to me in this way.

When I wrote this, I wasn't sure how it would be perceived. I didn't know if readers would see this as me putting out a negative vibe, or if they would see it as me trying to be a positive influence. As I have said in other comments on some of my other articles, there have been some here that feel I bring gloomy vibes. This is not my intention. I only wish to bring awareness to a growing disease that, I, myself, relate to, and practice self-help by writing it all out and not bottling it in. It took some courage to do that this time. So thank all of you for the gracious comments! It brings me hope that whoever reads this will get something out of it.

MizBejabbers, I plan to keep bothering until I get to see that specialist. I want to feel good again.

Venkat, tell your son that I relate to the ups and downs, along with all the uncertainty that comes with moving forward in life. It saddens me that he turned to things that only make it worse instead of making it better to ease his pain. Unfortunately, a lot of people do the same thing. I'm very lucky I was strong enough to struggle without consuming things that were bad. I hope all is good now with your son, and many condolences over the loss of your wife so soon.

Dana, I know a lot of people struggle against this disease, and you are right about hiding it. I mean, I do understand why people do this. I used to be one of those people. However, I have to say, since I have been able to bring it up little by little through poetry and writing about it, I feel much better.

Again, this brings me hope. You all have relaxed my uncertainty on if I should have written this and been so open or not. I should have. It helps. Caring and sharing helped, and it is my wish that others read this and feel welcomed to do the same. Many blessings to all of you! ~Missy

Dana Tate from LOS ANGELES on September 23, 2016:

At the age of fourteen, I wrote a poem about suicide after a tragic event happened in my life. It was the first poem I ever wrote. This was the beginning of me understanding how deep my feelings went and most can only be expressed through writing.

Most people feel you can snap out of it, or move on, but its that attitude that drives people to drinking, drugs and suicide. Moving on and not dealing with it- is like putting a band aid on a wound that never properly heals.

Venkatachari M from Hyderabad, India on September 23, 2016:

Missy, I can understand your problems as my wife and son have been through it for many years. My wife got it from her childhood itself as she was a rejected, unwanted child even though she had 9 siblings all elder to her. Even after marrying me she was not happy due to many problems. She died at her 57 with heart problems and BP, Diabetes, etc. My son got the symptoms since his Grade 10 when he began to feel insecure seeing his mother's condition and due to our financial problems also. He could not go to college and opted to do some salesman and part-time teaching jobs to earn money and do computer courses. There he got friendship with some cunning fellows who made him take loans and start a computer school. They drained his earnings and some of the loan amount for personal enjoyments. The school had to be closed within a year because of heavy debts. All these things added to his mental strains. He lost his self-confidence and began taking alprazolam tablets and to smoking to get relief without my knowledge. When we detected it, we took him to psychiatrists for many months and were able to only reduce his consumptions. He, thereafter, got a nice job and worked for one year. But, what happened we didn't know as he was staying at another distant city with my elder brother. He lost his job and then had no strength or wish to go after other jobs. When all of us shifted to his place, he began working from home but his mental problems remained the same. The prescriptions of Doctors did not do any improvement in his conditions. He is unable to work with concentration and keeps always worried about past and future. In the meantime, his mother also passed away whereas he was sitting in his room immersed in his own worries. I was running all around for a medicine at midnight and then for an ambulance to take my wife to the doctor and he did not know that. Only when our neighbours entered the room (their daughter is a junior doctor), he realised that his mother has died. Presently, he experiences insecurity, anger, anxiety, depression, and stage fear, etc.

Doris James MizBejabbers from Beautiful South on September 23, 2016:

"but it's like the original demon has a helper now,"

Hypothyroidism may indeed be the original demon. As I said, it is so hard to diagnose that it can get very acute before it is caught, and then only with a big jump in severity. Don't let them stall you this time. Please see an endocrinologist immediately, and I hope that hypothyroidism is the culprit. I would love to see you well, and if that is the case, you can get well.

Love and light.

Shannon Henry from Texas on September 23, 2016:

My mother deals with it. Although I believe everyone suffers from some form of intense depression at some point, and there have been times it seems death would just be welcomed as a relief, I do not know firsthand the fight to keep hope alive. That doesn't stop me from having sympathy for those who battle it as an on going part of their existence. Good for you for choosing courage and for sharing your struggles. It's not shameful in the least. You just might bring comfort to someone in need with your words. I hope you do. You express yourself so beautifully through poetry.