I have begun to treat my depression like a game of Chess. It makes a move and I make another. It’s this back-and-forth but with unlimited time to think about my next move. It’s a simple game, or so it seems. But there’s still much time before the check and mate. I don’t want to rush in with all my best moves, I want to take my time feign the losing and steal my victory from underneath depression’s nose. It’s not about making mountains out of molehills, it’s about calling the mountain a mountain.
I’ve been told this is a phase and it will pass, somewhat making depression sound uncannily like puberty. And if past experience is anything to go by, my battle with puberty didn’t go as planned. Ergo, if that is the case, then I am going to get out of depression with so much pain. The doubts are plenty, nobody can define depression. That’s why I feel jittery because I don’t know who I am playing this game of chess with. As of now it feels like I am playing against myself.
Every time I pop another pill and wonder, whether it’s really doing what it is supposed to do. I don’t do well with Chemistry and Biology, so I am not sure how that small, innocent pill can conquer something five-feet eight-inch me cannot. It’s almost embarrassing. But I drew an ace when I decided I am just going to go with the flow. Depression didn’t expect that. It expected me to listen to it, to do as told and hate myself.
But, that doesn’t mean the worry has stopped, I keep thinking. I’ll fight this game once and give it all I have, move my Queen and win the game. But if it knows my moves, it might come back stronger, bigger, more monstrous than before. And if that happens, will I have the strength to fight it all over again from scratch? I’ve lost most of my favorite soldiers, my bishop has lost faith, my elephant has been stranded in its corner and my sturdy knight falls at the behest of the opponent’s queen. She brings my knight to its knees and stares my King directly in the eye, ‘Check’ sounds her footstep.
My heart pounds, as I shuffle to the white square, moving out of range, but so within her scope to kill. She resembles my nightmares. And her king stands proud and tall untouched. Therefore, the doubts emerge, my mind calculating and every night with every nightmare I lose another pawn. My defenses crumbling I can feel her breath, taste her victory on my tongue. Therefore, the doubt. There are so many of them it’s hard not to give in. I am still waiting for my victory and in these uncertain times, I hope my nightmares don’t turn into reality. With every single breath, I take, I blow one of her pawns down. I’ll bide my time and lose all that I have, but my King will stand. It’s only a matter of time. She may wield her sword, but I am yet to unsheath mine.