I Will Feel Like This Forever?

The worst part about depression, anxiety, or any mental health disorder is coming to terms with the fact that I will live with this disease forever. I won’t wake up one day and be okay, there is no remission, no cure, just meds and therapy and sometimes even that is far away possibility for some. I will have months that feel like I am being dragged along simply by the sliver of hope that one day it will be less bad, avoiding the fact that even though there will be moments of happiness I will always return to the dark place. There will be months of static, my skin will feel too tight, music will be senseless noise, and the chatter of my friends and family will not bring me a warmth in my chest but an ache of feeling alone. I will talk to my therapist, she will tell me that things will get better, to find the joy even if it is miniscule and I won’t have the heart to tell her that there is no joy, not in the usual things, not even in the things I seek out, I will sleep and eat and dread taking showers even when I am already in the process. When the depression gets bad the anxiety lies low waiting for its turn, my OCD will lower the volume of the chaotic thoughts leaving room for the dark ones that tell me I am too much and not enough. I have learned to handle the anxiety, sometimes even the OCD but the depression seems to catch me off gaurd even when I am expecting it, like a cuckoo clock I seem to always be suprised when it chimes, when things around me start to be less vibrant. I am used to the every-day sadness, the fatigue and the nausea, I am even used to the dread that sometimes pops into my mind without warning but it is the dark months of numbness, of begging the tears to build and fall for a release of any kind, in those moments I would even settle for the anger that normally coats my every emotion but nothing comes, I feel nothing.