Burning Beneath

Depression—what a cruel, sneaky thing. Just when you think you’ve wrestled it down, invested the time, the money, the energy to fight your way free… it slithers back in like it never left. Quiet at first. Subtle. A heaviness in the chest, a cloud over the day, a silence that grows too loud. And suddenly, you’re back in the grip of something you thought you had already escaped.

But here’s the haunting question: Do we ever really get rid of it? Or is depression not just an illness, but one of those emotions buried deep in the human arsenal—right there next to joy, anger, fear, empathy, jealousy? Some people go their whole lives never feeling jealousy. Others overflow with empathy while some are numb to it entirely. So what about depression? Is it a mental disorder, or a human state of being? A shadow that follows us whether we acknowledge it or not?

There’s a wide spectrum—like standing in the rain without an umbrella on a gray, gloomy day and feeling that light sadness brush against your skin. And on the other end of that spectrum? A full-blown, soul-crushing weight that leaves you curled up in bed, not because you’re lazy or unwilling—but because you simply can’t. Your body, your mind… they freeze. And as twisted as it sounds, there’s a strange comfort in staying under those covers, even while a battle rages inside you to get up, to move, to function. You know you should. You want to. But sometimes… you just can’t.

And then comes the guilt. The crushing guilt of not carrying your weight—of watching your home, your family, your responsibilities go untouched while you fight a silent war inside your own mind. You want to be present. You want to be productive. But you’re locked in a body that won’t cooperate, inside a mind that won’t stop whispering lies.

I’ve struggled with depression for a long time. I’ve tried everything—therapy, medication, lifestyle changes, spiritual practices—and I’m still trying. I may have better days, stronger stretches, moments of light. But I also know that I can’t do this alone.

I need my circle. My friends, my family, my kids, my doctors… my support system. I am beyond grateful for them, and I never want to take their presence for granted.

And most importantly—I won’t give up. No matter how many times depression knocks on my door again, I will never stop fighting. Because I still believe in healing. I still believe in light.

Even if some days, I have to start by just getting out of bed