Riding the Waves of Depression: A Personal Struggle

Have you ever been caught in a wave while swimming in the ocean, pulled under, and carried toward the shore? That feeling when the wave holds you down, and you have no choice but to wait for it to release you? That's what depression feels like to me. Like the ocean, it crashes over you, overpowering both body and mind. And just like the ocean, depression can be an unrelenting force.

The Weight of It All

Depression isn't just sadness. It comes with so many layers of emotions and physical sensations—pressure on your chest, a numbness that makes everything feel distant, exhaustion, isolation, hopelessness, and a deep loss of motivation. It’s not easy to explain, so I often just call it "sad." But it’s more complicated than that, much more intense. I’m the type of person who feels everything deeply, maybe too deeply. Some might call it "sensitive," but honestly, I believe things affect me more than they do most people.

I also suspect that a part of this struggle comes from what I think is borderline personality disorder (BPD). If I’m right, one of the components of BPD is the overwhelming emotional intensity that seems to hit like a tidal wave. Add that to the list of things that make me feel "broken"—though I'm trying to remind myself that it's not about being broken, but about navigating a difficult, complex reality.

Struggling

Lately, I’ve been waking up every day trapped in a heavy wave of depression. Normally, I’d rate my mood at about a 3/10, but these past few months, it feels more like a 7/10. That "7" means an emotional dread so intense, it’s like a physical weight pressing down on me. I feel disconnected from everything around me—as if I don’t even exist in my own body—and a deep sense of fear and loneliness takes over.

It’s been hard. So many days, I’ve found myself calling my mom, crying, or caught in an anxiety attack. I’m not sure why I always call her. I don’t follow her advice most of the time, and I know she can’t fix things, but when I’m at my lowest, I guess I just want my mom. She always tries her best to comfort me, but sometimes, it feels like she doesn’t fully understand the weight of it. She’ll ask, “What can we do to make this better?” as though I wouldn't be trying to fix it if I knew how.

I think that’s the real challenge. Society loves to find solutions—to "fix" things. But sometimes, there is no fix. Depression isn’t something you can just erase; it’s something you live with. For me, it’s about learning how to work with it, rather than against it. I'm still in the process of figuring that out.

The Illusion of Control

Some days, it feels like I’m barely hanging on. I try to survive it—by redirecting negative thoughts, by focusing on the small things going right around me, and by accepting what I can't change, like the weather.

Speaking of the weather—I've noticed how deeply it affects my mood. It’s not just the cold; it’s how the outside looks. On grey, overcast days, I feel the weight of the sky pressing down on me. It’s as if the clouds are a reflection of how I feel inside. Once night falls, and it’s dark outside, my mood lifts—almost like the day’s gloom is gone. But of course, I have no control over what the weather does. I can’t change the grey sky, and that’s a hard thing to accept.

Searching for Answers

If you’ve ever struggled with depression, you know how exhausting it can be. You feel like you're fighting against something you can't control. There are moments when I wish there was a simple solution—something that would make the heaviness lift, even if just for a moment. But lately, I’ve started to realize that the answers aren’t always immediate or simple.

For now, I focus on getting through the day. I remind myself that it’s okay not to have all the answers. I'm on medication, which helps, but I know it's not a cure. And I try to remind myself that some days are just about surviving, not thriving—and that's okay, too.

I’m still learning how to live with depression, how to accept it without letting it define me. Maybe that’s the biggest challenge of all: finding peace in the chaos, and understanding that I don’t have to fight it every second. Some days are just about finding the smallest victories: getting out of bed, getting through work, taking a walk—even if it’s cloudy.

A Final Thought

I don’t know if I’ll ever "beat" depression. Maybe it’s not about that. Maybe it’s more about learning to coexist with it, to allow it space without letting it take over. In the meantime, I’m just trying to keep my head above water, doing the best I can, even when everything feels heavy.

And if you're reading this and feeling something similar, I want you to know—you’re not alone. We may not have all the answers, but we’re in this together.