Depression Foreshadowed

Yesterday I shared a piece of writing from back in college that was written before I was in an active battle with depression and anxiety. It showed that I was allowing my mind to spend time is some dark places back before depression was running my life, and that I have been struggling with making the “right” decision for years. Last night I was reading through a Word document in which I had brainstormed on “paper” before I wrote that essay. I was thinking that maybe I should post these raw thoughts when I came to the bottom of the screen and found a poem. Now to be clear I am no poet or even fan of poetry for that matter. I have stumbled across some that I enjoyed, Robert Frost The Road Not Taken comes directly to mind, but mostly I just don’t “get” poetry. This poem, and I use the term loosely, does give another window into where  my brain was as I approached graduation and the reality of what that would mean began to sink in.

 

Its strength is immeasurable growing stronger with

every puppet that falls in line.  It forces conformity

from all it can, and destroys all that it cannot.

 

It sucks the energy from everything around it

destroying what is unique with its unyielding power

forcing its will upon all.

 

What is its plan for me? Will it bury me with its

fantastic power? Can I be who I want to be? or

just another puppet on a string?

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2 thoughts on “Depression Foreshadowed

  1. When I read your poem, I don’t think of depression. I think of something familial. I don’t know if it will make any sense at all, but I see a picture of a young man attempting to step away, almost break free, from a “line”. The line being something like a conveyer belt in a factory where the same product is replicated en masse. The young man is looking outward, towards a bright horizon; his eyes are bright and hopeful, full of expectation. He wants to step off the conveyer belt and leave this “factory” of sorts. He doesn’t want to look back, and he never wants to turn back. But, one foot is on the belt, and, for some reason, he is not fully stepping forward. Is he stuck? What prevents him from stepping over the threshold and leaving this “line” behind forever? What will happen when the belt begins to move? Will he be pushed back in “line”? Will the “line” destroy his uniqueness and force its will upon him?

    Do you ever feel like your drowning? Suffocating?

    • I don’t literally feel like I am drowning, but sometimes suffocating. It is one of the physical symptoms of anxiety, the sensation of my chest constricting and not being able to breathe. The poem was not really about depression, but your imagery is in line with what I was thinking when I wrote it. The inspiration was the oceans abilty to wipe out anything unique and special, but that specific imagery never made it to the poem. I think my point in the blog post was that if these were the concepts floating around in my brain with more than a year of college to go the depression was almost a foregone conclusion.

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