Depression and I are no strangers to each other. But this slow creeping, insidious malaise that snuck up on me is new. It seems to me that things become habit and habit became commonplace and commonplace became automatic and whammo – I woke up this morning on the verge of…
Loss of self?
I woke up tired. That much I do know. Tired of the automation of it. Of the responsibility. Of the day and night. Tired of the strength I fake. The joy I force sometimes. The shoulder I become. Tired of the effort. Tired of being tired.
I feel it most in my eating habits. Sometimes the wrongness of a whole lifetime of bad habits is what you need to get you through a day. Or a month. Or, like me, you look in a rubbish bin and suddenly realize what you are shoveling and just how long you have been shoveling it for. And you don’t even remember it. Was it good? Of course, I guess. In the moment. But that is not why you are shoveling. You are shoveling because depression makes you doubt who you are. What you have done. Who you became. You revert to a past you. A you that found joy and comfort in food and eating and the mechanism of shoveling.
Depression, malaise, self doubt – they all take the little bit of worth that you have scratched together in the dirt, that you have fought tooth and nail for, and they cast a shit filter on it.
Don’t get me wrong – your worth is not suddenly shit. Nor is it suddenly gone. For a moment, it is just not visible for what it is. It is bogged down in bog. For a moment – it is invisible and lost to you.
What suddenly broke my slow descent into full depression? Or perhaps halted my climb back out of it? Limbo is funny like that – you can’t really tell where you are. What hurried the tears and started this all?
I can’t do a sit up. Not for love nor money can I do a sit up. So I have spent an entire day contemplating the life that brought me to not being fit enough or strong enough to do a sit up.
None of what I achieved is nullified. Or less. Or lost.
It is just not enough today. I think that is ok too. It is not ok if it is tomorrow too. And the next. And not functioning. And mess and blubber and snot.
I think I am a little bit depressed today.
But that is ok too.
Maybe this is how you grieve a life. A loss. A family gone. A family going. Maybe this is who I am as well.
Not always the life and soul.
Maybe I am more than I allow people to see.