This is not an emo post and how hard my life is. It’s really not, even though it will sound like it before I’m done.
I suffer from depression. I’ve suffered for a long time and while it ebbs and flows, it is always a constant reminder, looming in the near distance. This month, it hit with a double whammy. Situational crap plus internal crap equals a darkness that is not easily explainable, yet I will try.
The start of depression is aching muscles. Muscles so sore, a hot shower and aspirin only tease with relief. The constant ache begins, eventually settling into my head with a pain that is not sharp, but a dull slow ache. I take 2000 mg of Ibropren a day for Rheumatoid Arthritis, yet this ache is able to override it. The ache finally settles as a fog over my brain, making even simple decisions hard. Survival becomes even more simplistic than eating and drinking. Ironically, what would be an encouragement, such as a shower, becomes too much to think about. Eating becomes a chore, instead of a pleasure. Venturing into the real world and watching people who can function at a higher level is just a reminder of the failure of the day.
This month, I saw the darkest side of my emotions, the side I thought was better after having Joshua. When I was pregnant, I lived hour by hour, willing my brain to just make it one more hour. One more day. To ignore the pain and get through till the next ray of light came out. I didn’t take a bath (I did shower) because I have always had a fascination with the feeling of drowning and wanting to succumb to that. I thought 18 months of therapy had cured that part of my morbid emotions. This month, I visited that side of myself again. Not the pretty side of my brain. Not the pretty side of my emotions.
While struggling through this, I have a 25 pound extension who’s very survival depends on me. I, who can’t function sometimes, am in charge of a growing human. The very thought leaves me cold at night and crying in the shower while no one is watching. Why? Because I remember very well that I have failed at this before and I don’t have that option now. I am it. There are no replacements. Just me.
I love my child very much. I don’t need reminded that he is something to live for, I have that reminder every damn day. Staring me in the face, saying he wants a banana. While I can’t force myself to eat or shower or brush my teeth; he is fed every day, as much as he wants. He is bathed every other day and has fresh laundry. He has more toys than one baby needs and has a book read to him at least once a day. I sing with him when all I want to do is go back to bed and ignore the world. I dance with him when I want to walk in front of a bus and let what will happen happen.
There is no point to this really, except if someone reads this and has someone in their life who suffers depression, give them a break. If you can’t empathize, at least acknowledge that they aren’t play acting for attention. In fact, I’d wager attention is the last thing they want. The person might push you away, say mean things to you and ignore you. Don’t give up. They can’t see the sun, so they need you to bring in the light, even if slowly.
