Everything and Nothing

"Feeling pain is what lets us know we are alive."

This was something brought up in a recent conversation I had. However in our conversation, it was about feelings in general. Pain, fear, anger, sadness, joy, trust, love. But what happens when all you feel is pain? When every moment, no matter how wonderful is overpowered. Such is my daily life.

I walk around wearing a mask. Smiling no matter what. It has been a great coping mechanism in my job. No matter how sad the situation, you push through with a smile and a joke, because if you don't, you won't survive. It's rare you will ever see me sad. If you have, you caught me at my most vulnerable. 

Just such a thing happened the other night with one of my friends. They had convinced me to come out and play when I was particularly not in the mood. And though I was not wanting to be there, it was completely and thoroughly entertaining. But the entire time my chest hurt. A new physical attribute that has risen out of my depression. It's a constant feeling that my chest is caving in.

As the night went on, I forgot about my pain, and enjoyed the night. It wasn't until we were alone and chatting that I asked him to be honest about something with me. He was... and it wasn't what I wanted to hear, but he was honest. It was then that I poured my heart out. Let out the tears. Let out everything I'd been feeling. My loneliness. My pain. My doubts. How I wish I could be happy with the life I've made for myself. How I fear I won't make it through this.

It was a relief to be able to let it all out. As I mentioned last post, I'm trying to allow myself to feel, to allow the emotions to flow instead of hiding them. Though it was a relief, it obviously doesn't cure everything, but it sure is a start.

Who's to say why we are given the life we are given. Why it seems easier for some than others. Why they get the promotion, while you spend years just trying to get a chance. Why the person who cares and puts others before themselves is left alone, feeling unloved, and unwanted. How someone who has had so much joy and love and support in their life is diagnosed with clinical depression. 

The past couple months have been extremely difficult. Personal things have been overwhelming the past few months. And at work, we have been preparing for the Marathon Anniversary. A particularly anxiety inducing time for me. Having loved ones at the finish line. Being so close to almost being there if it weren't for little things that changed the events of the day. Being locked up, alone in my apartment, so close to the Watertown Take Down. The helicopters flying over, hearing the gun shots, cops walking/driving around my house constantly with major assault rifles, Tsarnaev being arrested around the corner from me. The culmination of so much going on in such a short period of time, and in such close proximity really impacted me. So much so I have been diagnosed with PTSD. 

When I was first told that my feelings were related to PTSD, I tried to brush it off. How could I have PTSD? That's what soldiers who have seen war have. Not me. But just like with my depression, it's something you can't control. You never know how you will react to something. Everyone is different. But it is how you chose to go forward with it that defines you.

For me, I'm fighting back. I am getting help. I am learning how to deal with my problems. I'm making an effort because the alternative is too scary. I've been there. I didn't like it. And I refuse to go back there again.