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Hey Depression, Go Fuck Yourself!

February 14, 2013

Boxing My Shadow

“Somebody needs to be a little concerned about me.” –K’Naan

I’m in it. I’m in it right now. There’s a cloud hanging over my head, a film over my soul. I can’t see straight. I can’t think straight. Being in front of people, being in a social setting is the only thing keeping me from crying. I’m existing with an anchor pulling on my limbs. It’s taken over my mind and my soul. It’s hijacked my thought processes. I don’t want to feel this way.

The monster, depression has conquered me again. It’s taking longer to go away this time. It’s taking more than a couple of days. It’s very convincing. It tells me things that aren’t true. I know it’s lying to me. I know it’s not real but I’m in it. I’m there. So, it’s hard to see. I know the truth but I feel a different truth.

 I can rationalize it. It’s a chemical imbalance. It’s the same thing as having an asthma attack or low-blood sugar or a heart attack. It’s physical. It’s chemical. But it’s a bastard because it makes you think it’s you, your character, your soul. It tells you to die. It tells you it’s too hard to live. It tells you you’re a screw up, a failure. It tells you to stop. Stop trying. Stop wanting. It makes it hard just to put one foot in front of the other. But it’s a liar. It’s the enemy of truth. It must be stopped and fought.

I’m trying to stop it. I got out of bed. I got dressed. I went to work. I did what I needed to. I’m writing. But it’s hard this time. It has me today.

Here’s why I don’t ask for help when it has me:  It’s too hard to talk about. Thinking hurts. Talking about it hurts more. I can’t verbalize what I’m feeling without crying. I don’t want to cry in front of my friends and family. It seems cruel. It seems like I’m hijacking their sympathy, especially when I know it’s a false sense of hopelessness. I don’t want to attach the anchor that’s pulling me down to the people I love. Why should they go down with the ship? It’s not fair. Besides, I know what they would say. Encouraging words don’t help. They make me cry even more. Telling me all the positive reasons to live or why I’m a great person or what I have to live for just makes me feel despair because I can’t see it. I can’t see it because it has me. All I see is the mistakes, the regrets, the failures. All I see is a broken and lost girl who has been screwing up since she was a teenager and will never amount to anything. What I’ve done doesn’t matter. Who I am doesn’t matter. The love others have for me is meaningless. My success as a parent, my successes as a photographer, any positive impact I’ve had on anyone’s life…….it’s all meaningless…….because it has me today. Today I have no meaning.

Postscript: I got through the workday. The promise of the park with its crisp weather and sunlight through the moss-covered trees carried me one hour to the next. I even worked a little. I walked. I listened to music. A Splat Pack text session ensued. I laughed. I smiled. The endorphins kicked in. The wind blew my hair. My muscles worked to make it through the fourth lap. Then I ate a salad and went to a coffee shop and wrote, exorcising the thoughts and feelings. So, I kept it at bay another day. It hasn’t won yet. Maybe, just maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow feeling hopeful. Maybe I’ll want to go to work to write about rocket science. Maybe I won’t wake up thinking, “I don’t want to be alive. This is too hard. I can’t do this.” Maybe I’ll wake up happy, not knowing why. Maybe the chemicals will balance themselves out and I’ll be able to face life with optimism and hope, if not ambition and drive.

Oh, shit. Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day. Fuck. OK. I’ll shoot for just getting through the day again.

Fuck you, Depression and Fuck you, St. Valentine!

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From → Rantings

2 Comments
  1. Thanks for pointing me to this post. I can relate to this a lot. I’m going through the motions, too, and pretending to everybody who’s left / newly acquired, but frankly see little meaning in that… but we’ll see.

  2. Kitten permalink

    I’ve been thinking alot about what you said about friendship and how hard it is to have friends when you’re suffering from depression. I’ve been on both sides of that coin. Maybe I’ll turn the topic into a blog. What I’ve learned is the most important part is listening. You can’t receive what you need without giving first. Every time I really need to tell Pickle something, I start with, “First of all, how are you…….’cause I have alot to talk about and I make sure you’re ok first.” And then I unload only if she can handle it. A depressed person brings baggage that is often too heavy for others to handle. That’s why there’s therapists and medication. (And I have my own fucked up experiences with both) You also eluded to what you see as a single, unchangeable cause for your depression but you don’t mention it in the blogs. I’d like to talk to you about this more, since it is helping me to clarify my own thoughts and feelings. If you’d like to e-mail for a more private setting I’m going to take the chance of putting my e-mail on a public page: nly@mac.com I think we could have a useful dialogue.

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