Depression at Night

dark darkness loneliness mystery
Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

Depression always feels heavier at night. And I just wanna be alone.

I love my husband deeply, but right now, I want to crawl under the covers in a pitch-black bedroom by myself. I’m sorry, honey. No offense intended.

I don’t want to talk to anyone. I want to be alone with my thoughts and my mood. This is not a healthy choice, but it is an overwhelming desire.

Depression has a way of telling me that I’m all alone anyway, and pressuring me to feel it. This disease wants me to ruminate – to think dark thoughts over and over. Or to think no thoughts at all – to let my mind be blank. That’s not easy for me to do normally, but it’s pretty simple in my depressed state.

I would love to huddle in a space where no light gets in. To sit in silence and blackness. To be covered by a blanket of dark. To hear nothing but the echo of no sound. So that I can listen for my heartbeat – a reminder that I’m alive and fighting. Barely. But fighting nonetheless.

I’m drawn to the corner of a room, or the floor of a closet, or in the dark next to a large heavy piece of furniture, such as a dresser or bookshelf. I’d like to just sit there, with my knees pulled up to my chin and my arms wrapped around my legs. I’d be wearing my most comfortable clothes – soft sweats and fluffy socks. My eyes would slowly adjust to the small amount of light filtering in, but I’d be surrounded by the dark. It would be comforting.

Depression often brings its friend, anxiety. A hollowness behind my sternum, an emptiness in my stomach. My long-time therapist recently encouraged me to identify where in my body I’m feeling my emotions, as they are a whole-body experience. So anxiety is in the center of my body.

Depression is on my shoulders, pulling me down and forward. Like a thick pile of blankets would feel – heavy and warm.

Isolation is a very familiar feeling, comforting, enticing. I’ve felt it before, and I long for the peace it brings. But two things I know: it’s not a lasting peace. And I’m not truly alone – Jesus is with me.

The stillness that depression brings invariably turns to negative thinking, to self-accusation, to feelings of hopelessness. My mind goes from no thoughts to condemning thoughts to lonely thoughts.

And the presence of Jesus – the Light of the World – counters the darkness. He longs to comfort me in my isolation, to remind me that He will never leave me, and that nothing – not even the darkness – can separate me from His love.

I could ask the darkness to hide me, and the light around me to become night—but even in darkness I cannot hide from you. To you the night shines as bright as day. Darkness and light are the same to you. Psalm 139:11-12, NLT

**************

I realize this is a “dark” entry. It’s how I feel as I go to bed at night when I’m in the midst of a depressive episode. I felt this way, too, every day of my worst depression back in 2009.  Fortunately, these feelings don’t last all day long anymore!

10 thoughts on “Depression at Night

    • peggyricewi March 7, 2019 / 9:14 pm

      Do you struggle with mental health issues? It’s a hard road!

      Like

      • madaboutmybody March 7, 2019 / 9:20 pm

        Yes I do, mostly anxiety and insomnia is particularly difficult as I’m reaching the age of menopause. It’s always such a balm to feel less alone with it by reading others experiences!

        Liked by 1 person

      • peggyricewi March 7, 2019 / 9:23 pm

        It helps to know we’re not the only ones awake at 2am!

        Like

  1. Chris Rice March 4, 2019 / 8:09 am

    You are doing well and doing the right things. I love you very much.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. kbailey374 March 2, 2019 / 2:15 pm

    The paragraph before “…anxiety” sounds like fear. I found that interesting because when I am depressed I AM in fear. Never really realized that before (not speaking for you, here …)
    Good expression of thoughts and feelings here. (((Hugs)))

    Liked by 1 person

    • peggyricewi March 2, 2019 / 3:47 pm

      Hmm. I’ve never thought of it as fear, but you could be on to something. Glad you understand my writing. I’m just trying to keep it real!

      Like

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