(WP2 Pt.3) Light
When my depression was at its worst, I found comfort in darkness and therefore darkness became a symbol of my depression. When my mental state began to improve, I was also at ease in the light, and so the light became a symbol of my recovery. Every day, my lights begin off and then I turn them on. In my mind, this action serves as a metaphor for the following story of my mental health journey.
“It’s utterly still and silent
The birds don’t even bother chirping
There is no expectation to do anything
No one there to judge
Darkness is the ultimate equalizer
Nothing is good or bad, ugly or beautiful,
Everything just exists
The light does not dare to remind me
Of the undereye bags
Of the unfinished work
Of the disheveled state of my surroundings
Darkness is kind
Gentile
Benign
Darkness wraps me up in their warm embrace
And just sits with me
Lays with me
Lulls me
Till Tomorrow”
I wrote this poem during a time in my high school career where my depression made me incredibly drawn to darkness. I felt that in the daytime, in the presence of light, I was confronted with a slew of expectations I could not keep up with. In the day, the goal was to accomplish: wake up, get dressed, go to school, take notes, write an A-worthy paper, exercise, etc.
For someone diagnosed with anxiety and depression, completing or even starting one of these tasks left me feeling utterly exhausted. I remember feeling like a hampster treading on a never-ending wheel. Each day, I would try to be productive, but fall short. My to-do list kept growing and yet overall motivation remained stagnant, leaving me feeling trapped. There was so much I yearned to do, but my body wouldn’t allow it.
Light only exacerbated these anxieties as it highlighted the strengths of others while exposing the flaws of my own. When I was around my friends during the school day, I felt bombarded by living examples of how I should function. On the outside, it appeared that everything came easily to them. I scolded myself for not being as productive or happy as they were. When I looked in the mirror in the morning, the girl looking back at me was not one I wanted to see. An unhealthy sleeping schedule made my face pale, my eyes red, and my dark circles exceptionally prominent. In the light, I could see all of the loose papers piling up on my desk and the mountain of clothes weighing down my desk chair.
In the dark, however, I was free to just exist. At night, no one expects you to work. No one is there to check up on how much progress you’ve made because they’re sleeping. In fact, people actually commend you for working late at night because they assume that you’re incredibly driven if you operate while everyone else is in bed. For a few hours, I didn’t have to see anything I didn’t want to. Here, draped in darkness and sedated by silence I was able to focus on homework and then sleep.
Over time, although my depression didn’t completely go away, I eventually began to feel comfortable in both the dark and the light. I think this has profound metaphorical significance. The girl looking back at me in the mirror hadn’t changed, dark circles and all. I just finally stopped being mad at her. It was only after I forgave myself for not being who I and others expected me to be that I was finally able to progress in my mental health journey. Happiness is not about being blissfully ignorant to all of your challenges, misfortunes, and flaws. In my experience, true happiness can only be achieved when you’re content with what you see when the lights are on.
