I realized something Monday morning…

I am more depressed than I was. Or am. It has been brewing for a while, just how long, I am not sure. The past few weeks have been a bit of blur. It started some time after or around my birthday. Writing my memories kept me going and gave me a purpose I had been lacking but it is entirely possible that this was going on before that time.

But Monday, I became acutely aware that it was worsening. I checked to ensure I was taking all the medication, and I have my magic rock in my pocket, but it isn’t enough.

For me, ‘fixing’ my depression (the last time) was about building routine. Fixing is the wrong word but helping me out of the depths was about building routine. Get up, work out, shower, get ready for the day like I was leaving the house. Dress for ‘work’, apply make up, come down to my ‘office’ and write, or work in my studio creating things. Along the way. I’ve lost a few of those pieces.

After a surgery in 2021, I stopped being able to work out. My workout consisted of a thirteen-or-fourteen-kilometre bike ride, five days a week (outdoor), four indoor (during the winter). Due to surgical complications, I could no longer hold myself up on the bike. As time went on, I regained most of the use of my left arm, but lacked the strength and the pain was difficult to manage, even now, three years later. I am trying to build it back into my routine. However, I realized recently, I just don’t care. When I’m on the bike (outside – I really dislike the indoor bike) I enjoy it, even if it is hard and often painful. But it is so much work, the ‘fun’ is gone.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped ‘making’ stuff. Once I got embroiled with Chris and his work, and especially the grant we applied for, I had zero time for my creative pursuits. Which was fine because my time was filled with work. But now, that stopped. I think that has contributed to this downfall. And again, I stare at my studio and it’s a disaster zone and I just don’t care to get it back in shape.

As I woke Monday morning, the third nightmare waking me finally, I realized something was wrong. I looked into our ensuite at the shower and thought “Ugh. I have to get in there.”

With all my bouts of depression, personal hygiene has never been an issue. I can always shower, wash my hair, and find clean clothes. I may not sleep, eat, comb my hair, or do creative things, but I always shower. But Monday, I realized I have been fighting with myself to get in the shower. Having all kinds of arguments with myself about why I can wait. This has been ongoing for weeks.

I didn’t realize I have a cloud surrounding me right now. It’s strangling me. I’m not sure I have been this aware of it before. I know this feeling, the sense of drowning in your own emotions. Being swallowed whole. The inexplicable feeling of being completely lost and without purpose. Like nothing has sense or meaning. Moving through time. The hours pass, sometimes slowly, other times quickly (as I lose track of time) and nothing has been accomplished because I can just get lost in my head. I am no where, and everywhere. Caught in a perpetual fog that there is no end to.

It isn’t all dark. There are moments of light. I spent the morning in my yard, enjoying the sunshine with a coffee. My dogs make me laugh and I enjoyed a lovely dinner Monday evening with a brilliant glass of red wine. I had no appetite all day and picked at a couple things, trying to convince myself to eat, but dinner I enjoyed. The moments are short lived and the fog closes in quickly. I keep seeking the moments out because I do not want to live in the darkness.

I am not listening to the voices that are whispering from the shadows. They are there, sometimes they yell at me but I know they scream lies. It would be so easy to just lay down and surrender. To sleep and to not wake. To ease the pain. To let it all go. As I write that, a weight lifts from my shoulders like I cannot explain. Release. Ease. Unburdened.

Life is ugly. We tell our children it gets easier, but it doesn’t. It is lies. If we are lucky we find someone to share it with but then you realize you are grief. Dead weight. A noose around their neck.

This cycle seems endless. Heartless. Perpetual. Wasn’t I just here a few months ago? I’m in therapy. I am doing the work. I am taking the medication. But you cannot manage some of the stress that comes your way.

But then your favourite human tells you to eat a yogurt and you remember.. He is your anchor to this world and you have to try. So you stuff those feelings in a bag and remember that the voices in your head will scream the lies and hurl the terrible thoughts, but now they will be muted. Today, you’re going to remember the hug and your son reminding you to eat a yogurt, because that is what you have and he needs you.