My Depressive Night

My Depressive Night

Some nights are longer than others. Not in hours, but in the weight they carry. Last night was one such night. A night where silence was not peaceful but deafening, where darkness did not bring rest but suffocation. A night where sleep was an unfulfilled wish, and the only companion I had was my own overthinking mind.

It started with a strange heaviness in my chest, something I couldn't put into words. I felt exhausted yet restless, like my body was tired, but my mind refused to shut down. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the ticking of the clock, each second echoing inside me like a reminder of time passing but nothing changing. I turned from side to side, trying to find comfort, but it was nowhere to be found. The room felt smaller than usual, as if the walls were closing in, trapping me with my thoughts.

And then, the spiral began. My mind started revisiting old memories—mistakes I made, regrets I carried, words I wished I had spoken, and moments I wished I could relive. It felt like drowning in a sea of ‘what-ifs’ and ‘if-onlys.’ I thought about dreams I had given up on, relationships that had faded away, opportunities I had missed, and the person I once was compared to the person I had become. It was a war between my past and my present, with no hope for the future.

The worst part of depressive nights is the loneliness. Even if you are surrounded by people during the day, the night isolates you in a way that is terrifying. It makes you feel as if no one truly understands you, as if you are screaming in a crowd, but no one hears a thing. I picked up my phone several times, thinking of texting someone, anyone, just to feel a connection. But I stopped myself every time, fearing that I would be a burden or that no one would really care.

So, I did what I always do—I let the sadness consume me. I let the tears fall, not fighting them back. I hugged my pillow, as if it could absorb the pain I was feeling. I allowed my thoughts to break me down, because sometimes, pretending to be strong all the time is even more exhausting. And in that moment, I realized how fragile we all are, how easily we can get lost in our own minds when the night brings its darkness.

At some point, I tried to distract myself. I played a song, but every lyric seemed to speak to my pain, making it worse. I scrolled through social media, but seeing people laughing and living their best lives only deepened my loneliness. I tried to read, but my mind couldn’t focus on the words. Everything felt meaningless. Everything felt empty.

But then, something unexpected happened. As I lay there in the depths of my own sorrow, I noticed the faint light of dawn peeking through my window. The sky, which had been pitch black just a while ago, was now turning into shades of blue and pink. The birds began to chirp, breaking the silence that had been suffocating me all night. And in that moment, I felt a strange kind of relief—like maybe, just maybe, I could get through this.

That’s the thing about depressive nights. They feel endless when you’re in them, but eventually, the night does end. The sun rises, the world wakes up, and you realize that you have survived yet another battle with your own mind. And while the pain doesn’t vanish overnight, and the thoughts don’t magically disappear, you learn to hold on. You learn that if you can make it through the night, you can make it through another day.

So, if you’ve ever had a night like mine, I want you to know this—you are not alone. I know it feels like no one understands, but there are so many of us fighting the same invisible battle. And just like I did, you will make it through. The night may be dark, but the sun always finds a way to rise again.