a third state of existence between life and death

i know it like my own shadow

i was scrolling through instagram today and i saw a post about a news article. not the most reliable source, i know, but it was enough to inspire what i am about to write. the article itself read as follows: a third stage of existence between life and death has been confirmed in a surprising new study.

i’m not going to try and explain the study to you. in fact, i glossed over it with a sort of bored curiosity and probably took in about three sentences in total. i’m not a science writer, after all. i am, however, a poetically inclined 21 year old with more pain and feeling resting on my shoulders than years i have lived. i presume this is the reason why the cogs started turning in my brain the second i laid eyes on that title. i’m no scientist, and my heart is still very much beating, but the notion of a state of being between that of the living and the dead felt familiar in a whole different way. in fact, i believe it’s somewhere we might be more familiar with than we realise. my heart is still very much beating, but there have been moments where i could have sworn i was less than alive.

it’s the feeling of numbness, floating in a state between feeling nothing and everything all at once. the pain is there but you are too exhausted to cry. the world seems to orbit the sun faster than your heavy eyelids can open and close again. everything and everyone is moving and living and advancing and you are frozen in place. seeing the things happening to you and around you like you’re watching through a window. you’re aware that it’s your life, but you don’t feel it. weighed down as though your blood has turned to cement and your limbs have lost their motion. it’s the feeling of emptiness once you breathe out the contents of your lungs and your heart begins to slow, if only for a moment before you instinctively take the next breath. sure, you might be surviving each day, but that’s exactly what the problem is. you’re surviving, but you’re not living. you’re existing, but you’re not alive.

depression is a cruel captor. it creeps up on you and swallows you whole before you have the chance to notice it’s shadowy presence waiting in the corner of the room. sometimes it’s your first meeting, sometimes it’s your last. the times in between are the most hopeless, i’d say. it’s a thief, at its simplest. it rips the voice from your throat, the colour from your vision. suspended in a state of dissonance, betrayed by both your body and your mind. you become your own prison and you struggle to tell the difference between night and day, if there is any at all anymore.

i believe that this is the third state of existence between life and death. it’s a pitiful state of being that strips you of all that you once recognised about yourself. fighting to stay afloat when drowning is the easiest option. it’s as though you’re bleeding out unconscious on the floor, but all any onlooker sees is you taking a peaceful nap.

i’ve spent so much time here that its no wonder that article title spoke to me the way that it did. unfortunately it's a state of existence that too many people are familiar with. i wont pretend to have a remedy, i’m still figuring that one out myself, but i will say that if you have ever experienced anything similar; remember to be gentle with yourself. often the hardest battles fought are those invisible to the naked eye. depression is something that may or may not ever go away depending on the person, but regardless it is something that we will one day learn to live with. not just survive. sure, the greyscale might seep into our vision again from time to time. but we will find the strength to see the beauty in silver tones, and we will learn to swim.

image source: pinterest