i can feel the dead silence of my soul.
it blocks out all ambient noise,
rendering them irrelevant,
flinging them into oblivion.
i can hear the keening of my heart.
its mournful wails echo within
these bleak prison walls,
sending me reeling deeper
into the quagmire i’m in,
pulling me closer
into its murky depths, from which
there is no escape.
It’s been only two weeks since I resigned from my job and I can already feel myself sinking into depression. I have been so used to getting up in the morning and preparing myself to go to work that not having to do it anymore is making me feel almost useless.
There’s this emptiness inside me, a dead silence that is aching to be heard. I am yearning for the routine of doing the job I loved for almost three years and not being able to give in to this ache in my heart and my soul is almost akin to death. I am being pulled deep into the recesses of an abyss, from which I cannot run away from.
So, in my desperate need to pull myself out of this funk, I turn to sleep and food. I’ve noticed myself waking up later and later these days. And, as if that is not enough, I catch myself taking too long naps during the day. I could not control myself. I will just know that I slept when I wake up.
When I’m awake, I eat. I have inhaled bags of chips and salted caramel popcorn. Banana chips and peanuts, lots and lots of them, have become my new best friends. I am constantly craving for fresh goodies from the bakery oven…muffins, cookies, cupcakes, cheesecake, brownies, revel bars, and macaroons, you name it. And, I couldn’t eat them fast enough when I already have them in my hands.
I also gobble up chocolates like there is no tomorrow. I don’t stop at these sugary confections though. I eat everything I could lay my hands on. I even ate a kilo of lanzones by myself, which is something I haven’t done before. I ask for fish dishes for dinner and eat them with what seem to me like a ton of rice, considering that I am not much of a rice eater. I am going into a downward spiral and I can’t see any escape in place. I’m afraid I’d look like a beached whale by the time this depression phase is over.
It’s not as if I did not try to do something to bring myself out of this depression. I tried to do some artwork to take my mind off things and I have been writing poems like crazy lately, but I still go back to this funk and stare blankly into space again.
Even my books have lost their appeal. Now, that is scary. Because if there is one thing that could have rescued me from any slump in the past, it would have been my books. But, that is not the case now.
I am actually afraid. Deathly scared of what I might do next. Even the offer of my aunt to use her baking equipment, so we can whip up something yummy, which I used to love doing with her, has not succeeded in making me get out of this self-professed prison walls I am in.
I know I am not alone. I know there are lots of people going through the same thing I am. That is a consolation, yes, but I fear it will not stop me from sinking deeper into this quagmire I am in. I think I need help. I think I really do.