The Invisible Line
A story that shares the very real struggles of depression. Where is the finish line? What does it look it?
The Invisible Line
I am stuck in this place where campfires, coffee shops, and music don’t bring me joy like they used to. I am longing for a glimpse of sunshine to pass through my soul, to allow me to feel alive again. I often wonder how long it will take to get there. My body aches and my mind is tired.
I have been on this black, tar track for 7 months now. I have lapped myself countless times. I’ve been running and walking; crawling and stopping and for some reason I can’t find the finish line. I don’t know what it looks like; if it’s colorful with ribbons, if it’s just one giant sign that says, “YOU MADE IT!” Or if it’s a race that goes on my entire life and I just have my friends and family on the sidelines cheering me on.
Most days I’m almost out of water and there are some mornings that I realize I didn’t refill my water bottle the night before. On those days, I crawl. The soles of my shoes are worn thin and the clothes on my back are dirty and fraying.
I know I can’t be the only one on this track but everyone else is invisible. I wonder if they can see me or if I am invisible, too? I question if it’s because our society doesn’t provide shoes or water for the people who walk on this track and if the people walking, are too ashamed of their dirty clothes and worn-out shoes.
In February, I thought I saw the half way marker but when I reached it, my body started moving backwards and my mind wouldn’t allow me to turn around. I had to remember which spots I stopped at for water, hoping there would be enough for me to continue on.
There was a day I ran out of water and my body stopped in its tracks and I was just lying there. I started to cry, hoping that the tears would be enough for my body to stand again. I was lying down for so long, attempting to army crawl but feeling too weak. I ran out of water and my tears could no longer suffice. I just laid there, dreaming of a life with clean clothes and an abundant supply of water. The only way I thought to get a life like that was to step off the track. But stepping off meant going to an unknown place. A place where I didn’t have holes in my shoes, but that place didn’t have you.
As I laid there, I saw my dirty, brown hair and noticed so many split ends. So, I sat up and my hair was resting a little past my shoulders and I asked myself “Why do you choose to keep your long hair with split ends? Why are you holding onto something you don’t need? Does it make you feel beautiful?” I didn’t have an answer for myself.
So, I chose to buzz cut my hair and since that day I’ve been crawling. I am not sure if I am moving in the right direction, but I am trying to be hopeful because I am no longer lying down. I managed to see a little piece of the Emily I thought wouldn’t come back. I saw a glimpse of strength and a little bit of my free spirit. It gave me enough hope to crawl again. I’ve continued to crawl since then and I look forward to the day I will walk. Because my shoes are worn thin, I worry if I move too quickly that the tar will turn my feet black. So, for now I have the glimpse of strength to hold onto.
I have a feeling that there is no finish line and there won’t be colorful ribbons to run through. My hope is that I will learn through time how to keep my water bottle full and to let my mind allow my body to turn in another direction if the way I am going will turn my feet black. As I continue on this track, I hope that my friends and family are holding up that giant sign that says, “YOU ARE MAKING IT”.
If I am not the only one on this track I want these people to be seen. I want to be able to give them a new pair of shoes when the ones on their feet are too thin, because I know how long and tough this journey is. I want to know these people and hold a sign for them.
“Your depression is real. The fight is tough, but you wear the shoes to conquer. You have the ability to fill your water bottle but if you can’t, I will”.
