Darkness within Darkness

I find myself at the precipice of losing my mind to anxiety or depression again. My new head shrinker has me on a very good new med that is keeping me more focused, but it sets my heart racing. This feels much like an anxiety attack and so I now have no clue weather what I am experiencing now is a proper anxiety attack or a side effect. The med is assisting my focus; I have been cleaning the house up on my own for the first time is a long time. I find myself sliding back and forth between feeling very good about myself to feeling like Golum of Lord of the Rings. A hated, slimy, dark thing that when exposed to the sun is seen to have the hydrocarbon coated soul of a deamon. A thing even the goblins feared.

And fear. Never in my life have I known such fear. The fear of being noticed doing something out of the ordinary, the fear of being too ordinary, the fear that someone will find out the black truth about me. Yet, the truth is that I am not a hated, slimy, dark thing. Though, goblins do still fear me. Those things do not keep the friends that I have. The friends I have who stay with me and believe in me and try to push me towards a mirror so that I might see myself as they do.

Whom do I trust if I cannot trust myself?

Circles of Shadow

I stand apart, looking out
past a shadow clinging to me
eclipsing my personal light

Looking around, I see
bright glows from others
their shadow seems less

The air resists my movement
a wind felt only in the pressure
against my struggle for change

When I have found a suitable
resting point, my shadow again falls
forcing my sight to look out again.

Looking at the world
I wish
I was part of it.

Renewed Wrong

I have tried to post here for some time. My life has spiralled away from me, and talking with you seemed to help in the past. I am at a loss.

I am again off work due to brain issues. I panic at the thought of responsibility, when once I coveted it. There seems to be a stain on my personality that I am attempting to cover up. I am scared, even in places where no one knows me, that someone will see through this wrongness in me. That they will notice the stain and... mock me or something. Three shrinks are working on me now and progress is being made, but I know that depression/anxiety is more like diabetes than a broken arm. A broken arm heals and is whole again, where diabetes must be managed as an eternal condition.

And that sucks.