depression

I feel like sometimes I have a whole lot to say, so much that it’s hard to get me to shut up. At other times, I feel like I can’t think of anything to say even if my life depended on it. I wish I were more consistent at it.

I’ve realized the ebb happens when my depression is at its worst, when I feel literally like doing nothing. During those times, it’s a struggle just to live. Living with depression feels like on a good day, I’m running through waist-deep water. On a bad day, I’m treading water. And, on a really bad day, I’m drowning. Most days, I check out of all responsibility and spend my time sleeping, watching TV, reading, or playing video games because I don’t have to think or be present.

My brain feels foggy during these times, like I can’t quite make 1 + 1 = 2. It just doesn’t compute. I’ve often described this to Corey. I’ve told him that during these times, I feel like I can almost grasp the concept of whatever I’m trying to do, but the final piece I need to make it work or click is on the other side of a precipice or at the bottom of an abyss. So far out of reach.

Then, when I wake up from my fog, I feel like I’ve woken up from a long sleep, like Sleeping Beauty. I still don’t feel refreshed by any means, and I still can’t always make 1 + 1 = 2. But, I feel like the precipice’s slope isn’t quite as steep or the abyss is much shallower. Things feel less out of reach. A little more doable.

I’m really struggling right now. I’m at one of the lowest points in my life. It takes every ounce of my strength to get out of bed in the morning. Then, using what’s left over I have to navigate the day. Some days, I can’t do it. Some days, I don’t have the strength to do the things that most people take for granted.

I’ve been living my life one day at a time, sometimes one hour at a time. It’s all I can do to keep suicidal ideation from my thoughts. One minute I’m completely fine and the next, I’m completely broken, sobbing, wondering what I can do to lessen the pain and despair I’m feeling. I know suicide isn’t the answer. And, I don’t really want to die. Sometimes, I just wish I’d never been born.

Fortunately for me, I have a really awesome therapist who I’m working with twice a week. I’m showing some improvement, which is nice. I always look forward to my time with him because I feel a bit more normal and can see a little more clearly. I don’t know how long it’ll take for me to get in complete control of my mind, but I’ll keep working and trying.

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