Please, just let me go.

Usually I flip out of depression pretty quickly - that's the "beauty" of borderline personality disorder as opposed to it's sister cousin bipolar. I switch between depression and mania within days rather than weeks. While it's frustrating and I'd never wish it on anyone, it's always nice knowing I can climb up from this home of depression; I know it won't be forever.

So why won't it go away this this time?


I rub the silk of my skin: that crease in between my hips and belly, and muse. I don't want to be depressed. My fingers find the mole on my hip that sticks up just a little bit past my body. I can't stand it. It's an imperfection that's not attributed to anything good.

It's nothing.

I'm nothing.

I shake my head - un-brushed curls fall into my eyes but I don't bother moving them. Why can't I escape this? Clawing my way out is never easy, it's always a battle, but I manage it. I've hit the three week mark and my mind shows zero signs of cooperation.

Why? It's not like it normally is. I can't answer the door, I can't go outside, I can't drive my car, I can't do anything without this overwhelming feeling of anxiety straining against my chest. My heart actually hurts. I can't even wrap my brain around how much I want to hang on my husband when normally I can't stand to be touched. 

Speaking of...

I lean back just an inch so I can feel his side against me and relax a fraction but he notices and rolls over wrapping his arm around my stomach, pulling me in flat to his chest. My heart catches and for a second I can't breathe - absolutely not in a good way. My lungs fill with so much air I'm drowning. My arms are shaking so badly I can't manage to push him off of me even though I'm trying as hard as I think I can. 

Panic has completely and utterly liquefied my brain. 

I'm pretty sure I'm motionless underneath his arm and against his chest - terror left me with nothing. Tears are falling in rivers down my cheeks and pooling on the mattress underneath me but I can't manage a single sound. Nothing. My mind is on auto; memories and futures running before my eyelids like silent film I can't stop. I keep closing my eyes and shaking my head, trying to ground myself in the reality of where I am but where I am is stuck and imprisoned and drowning and nothing is taking it away. 

So I lay here realizing exactly why I'm stuck in this hole of depression, unable to claw my way out, trapped inside a prison of my own comfort. My body begins shaking and I'm breathing so heavy and quick I barely finish one before I start another. I never really understood the term gasping for air until now.

"I know, ok, I know! It was my fault. It shouldn't be a big deal but it is, it just fucking is!"

My screaming snaps him awake - scares him really - and he tightens his grip which terrifies me. No longer in anything close to control I I push against him with everything; my feet, my hands. I slap at his arms and beg him to let me go. 

Please, just let me go.

He relents. 

Once free I can actually feel my body lightening. My pulse begins to slow and even though I'm still rubbing the tips of my thumbs and fingers together anxiously my chest has stopped pounding so hard. My breathing returns to normal as I sit on the edge of the bed; it finally makes sense. 

"Roze, what are you talking about?"

"I was raped 9 years ago and it was my fault. Why won't it go away?"

My voice catches and once again I'm sobbing - only this time I fall into his chest face first and relax into him when his arms wrap around my back. He rests his chin against my forehead and pulls a blanket over us both while I snuggle deep into his side and try to catch my tears before they fall. 

"Because you've finally admitted it."