I just didn’t want to.
I haven’t written in weeks. If I can be honest, I just didn’t want to. Not that any one else noticed but that’s how I recognized I was slipping into depression again. Nothing too dramatic. Just another season of malaise. The days sliding into each other and the desire to sleep through them pulling the reigns hard on any sort of motivation. A suffocating cloud of sadness that pushes down any sunny ray of hope that may try to weave its way in. No Christmas card from us this year? Oops, I didn’t want to send them. I couldn’t make myself go to the post office. Haven’t gotten a text reply? Sry brb. Busy isolating.
My blankets weigh a thousand pounds.
I tried coming out of it a couple of weeks ago. My Punxsutawney Phil imitation an icy premonition of its furry namesakes decree. Six more weeks of winter! Yay…(yawn) let’s go back to bed….. Not that I’ve stayed in bed this whole time but noticeably more. My blankets weigh a thousand pounds. It’s weird.
My brain is to blame.
Thankfully I am no longer shamed by my bouts of depression. I recognize that I will always have this sway to my existence. Should I try to find a reason for it? Trust me I know a reason would be easier for those that don’t get depressed to understand how “feelings” can cause my whole world to BE OFF. How nothing fits, not even my skin. Maybe it was the election (call me a Snowflake and I’ll punch you). Maybe it was this harsh So Cal winter. Never leaving the house is the perfect way to handle a years worth of rain all at once, isn’t it? Or could be my daughter’s softball team? I can admit I cry about 12-year-old girls playing a game. So what? No, those reasons may affect it but they are not the cause. The real reason is my brain is wired this way.
Tiny buoys of hope
I did leave the house (carpool counts), showed up at places I was required to be (sometimes in a robe, oh well), continued with life, as little as I could. I answered (most) texts, emails, paid my bills and washed my hair. It’s what I was taught would help me get through and it does. Each chore a tiny mountain I must climb. Each completed task a tiny victory. Those tiny wins strung together is what keeps the real darkness at bay. They are hope filled buoys in the waves of black sadness. Returning the grocery cart to the holder instead of leaving it in the lot can prevent insanity. Tiny buoys, they work.
Mostly back to normal. Mostly
Today I am mostly back to normal. Like I will always be mostly back to normal. I am making lists and I feel a second (millionth) wind coming on. I feel hope again. I am writing again. I am mostly back to normal and I am totally ok with that.