The senses

At the darkest point of my depression my sense where somewhat different I felt.

Sight: I couldn’t see past my anxiety, what I saw in the mirror filled me with disgust. I looked weak, pathetic. My skin lacked colour, I was pale and I had bags under my hollow eyes. I couldn’t see for the future.

Touch: I felt numb. Numb to being in existence, numb to being touched. I felt nothing.

Sound: my brain ran as fast as a train and I couldn’t keep up, all I could hear were my thoughts. I couldn’t concentrate on work, conversations or even reading a book. I couldn’t hear anything except for my own awful thoughts and how tragic I was.

Taste: everything was bland, nothing tasted good. There was just no flavour in food anymore, yet I ate for comfort. All the wrong foods too.

Smell: nothing smelled the same, it was all dull. It was like my brain was broken.

I was hopeless, I felt hopeless. There was nothing to look forward too in life. I wasn’t living, just getting by. I never want to go back to those dark places that robbed me so many years of my life.


Author: karinao86

Mother of 3 boys, wife to one man and lover of horses. Mental health sufferer in recovery.

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