Day One
My depression is much like when you're at the beach, kids are playing in the sunshine and water, and you see distant dark clouds gathering. There's not much you can do about it. It's most likely going to storm. You get a a little anxious seeing them roll in and decide you better pack up your gear so you can make it back to the car before it rains. It's disappointing. There's not much you can do. It's coming. I never know how violent it will be, or if it might pass overhead with a few sprinkles. Either way, the gray clouds are gathering around my head.
I've never experienced a severe depression and it usually doesn't last more than a few days when it comes, but once it "hits shore", it's like going into a dark room when your eyes haven't yet adjusted from the bright light outdoors. You can't see clearly and you know you just have to wait it out a bit. It's familiar, you've had this before so you don't exactly panic, but it's also irritating.
When I get like this, the best way to ride it out is to watch TV. Mind numbing TV where I can be passive. Where my brain doesn't have to work too hard. I might try other things like writing, reading, or something active like riding a bike, but my motivation is so low that I'm lucky if I can get off the couch. Reading is almost impossible. I have to reread a paragraph and I still don't know what I just read, mostly because I don't care about it. It feels like so much work. And that says a lot because I love reading.
Sometimes I don't notice the depression until I catch myself being bored by everything I try to do. I've finally realized that if I'm bored of reading, it's a sign I'm depressed.
Day Two
I don't always know the why. I'm an analyzer. My own therapist once hinted that I tend to intellectualize rather than feel things. That surprised me because sometimes I feel like I feel too strongly, and that I'm too sensitive. I don't know.
Sometimes the depression is about something bothering me, or it's a sign that I've been too busy. Sometimes I've been too hard on myself. My inner critic has gained the reins of my thoughts.
There's a little chipmunk that frequents the shrubs and garden in my backyard. He scurries from bush the bush, jittery, and skittish, eventually scurrying back down the drainage hole from where he came. I feel like him when I leave home during a depression. I'm hesitant and dart quickly in and out of the library. I pray that I don't run into someone I know. I barely brushed my hair and teeth. My glasses and hole-y sweats look like I'm ready for bed. I'm the classic depressed person from a Cymbalta commercial.
I test myself to see how quickly I can dart in and out of the library. I have a book on hold and it expires after today. That's the only reason I'm going. It's also another valiant effort to see if a new book might spike my attention, pull me out of the engulfing sadness. Typically I take my time, people watching, noticing the park across the street, moseying between library shelves, purposely getting distracted by shiny new books, breathing it all in. But no, I'm on a chipmunk mission. In and out so I can go back to my hole below the ground. I'm skittish, certain that everyone suspects I did a half ass job of brushing my teeth today. That my clothes are dull much like my skin that day. That everyone is looking at me, judging me.Thank God for self check-out.
I consider stopping at the store for junk food- maybe Doritoes. Normally I eat healthy, but when I get like this, I don't care.
I consider whether it's the risk of darting in and out of the store, only because we are low on junk food at home. I decide it's too much effort, and all I want is to crawl back into my hole. It's enough energy focusing on the traffic so I don't get into an accident.
Despite my tendency to isolate at those times, I still check social media, email, and text messages. When I'm in the fog, when everything looks like a bleak and blustery November day, I still have a crevice of receptivity. By chance, someone will do or say something that gives me a droplet of happiness. I hold my empty cup out and I take that drop. I don't think the person has a clue. I grasp at it, clinging- on a day like this.
The big question is how does one get through a work day like this? Do you take a sick day? Because we can all admit there's still a stigma about mental health problems. You just don't call in to work and tell them you're too anxious, depressed, or angry. Do you go to work but do it half-heartedly? Do you go and avoid everyone you possibly can? Or do you put on a completely fake facade? I haven't found an answer. You muddle one way or another.
Sometimes I give myself short pep talks that the only thing I expect of myself is to show up and do the minimum. That I'm allowed to leave Miss. Perfection and Ms. People Pleaser at home. I even give myself a time frame. This week you get to leave parts of yourself at home, but your physical body is going. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. I've learned the most important thing is to be gentle with myself. Much like you would treat a five year old who's walked two miles and legs are hurting her. Two more baby steps? Need to rest awhile on the bench? You need to be carried? Whatever you need.
Day 3
I felt normal-ish for part of the day. I survived a difficult day at work and can't help but feel a little like super woman for accomplishing that.
