The Daybreak Diaries (1)

The dawn lost its promise of hope. I hadn't slept a wink, but I so desperately wanted to unshackle myself from the pile of pillows and blankets that were strewn on the bed. Without warning, a cold indifference seeps through the covers and into my skin. And just like that, I lie frozen in a constrictive cocoon as the rest of the world goes on with their lives.

Depression affects more people than most would believe. And even those who are afflicted are often trapped in a limbo of denial. All too often, it is left undiagnosed and dismissed as the product of an individual's overly developed sense of drama.

As a result of the social stigma attached to depression, many people choose to suffer in silence. On most days it requires less effort to smile and say 'I'm okay.' rather than have to unburden yourself on someone – a person who may genuinely care for you, but will fumble around with the how (because at this point you don't even know what would help) or a person who may have just asked 'How are you?' for the sake of being polite.

All too often one shuns the opportunity to stand up and share the turmoil that is brewing inside when you know that yours will be the only voice that will stir the comfortable silence. However, I have realized that  it takes but one soul to stand up and speak, so that the rest can be heard. I do not claim to understand depression in any professional capacity. What I share here are all culled from my personal experience with it – the crippling melancholy, the grueling daily struggle and the occasional small victory.

I do not pretend to have any answers. I am merely sharing accounts of everyday battles in a war that I have to wage until I draw my last breath. I am not even sure what I hope to achieve, but I strongly believe that this debilitating disease loses a part of its hold on you when you open up about it.

These are my daybreak diaries.