Depression, yada yada yada.

This is not the post that was going to be up today, which from my current perspective, is tomorrow.

I have one about antibiotics ready to go but the day started hard and got worse since then, a consequence of talking to my psychiatrist. There was nothing particularly dire about the conversation, it’s just that I often get a mood drop after talking to my therapists and today I can ill-afford it.

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

I’m depressed.

I vaguely recall some writing from a few months back, expressing my hope that this was going to be a transitory dip. Don’t take gambling tips from me. I’m a failure as a prognosticator.

The depressional dip decided to stick around. It’s been thirty years since my first depressive episode, almost to the day. I won’t be having a party. I’ve no interest in celebrating the anniversary. It makes me wonder how married people stick it out. Of course, in the case of marriage, most people don’t hate their spouses the majority of the time.

I’m tired of talking about it and I need to talk about it. A conundrum. Unfortunately, my circle has not been particularly helpful and so once again, writing becomes the outlet.

The conversations proceed in one of two ways: they listen, offer an abstracted commiseration, and then launch into a problem they need an ear for which we focus on for the duration of the conversation; or, they launch into a recitation of all the things I should be doing to treat the symptoms, the presentation of which they are unclear on because for both examples, no one asks me what it means for my life when I say “I’m struggling with my depression right now”.

I get it. Reruns get uninteresting quickly. How do you think I feel living them?

To be fair, I don’t push that hard. Three or four mentions and then I’m done.

There’s also the competency problem. I get through. I keep going. I’m a goddam energizer bunny. How bad can it be if I’m not giving up? Sometimes I wonder about the reverse; how bad do I have to get before I get help?

The days keep coming. Life still requires living for all that I don’t want to. I write up a list every morning of the things I need to do to have a productive, depression-fighting kind of day.

Journal and readings

Meditation (this one depends as it can help or end up being quite harmful)

Editing and Writing

Islam (I’m taking an online course)

Own it (it’s another online course, this one about coaching and being your best self)

Exercise

Fresh air

Water

Call someone

I tick them off as they get done. Some things get multiple ticks. Doing anything is hard right now so I break tasks down. I might exercise for five minutes, four times a day. That gets four ticks. The list keeps me moving, functioning, performing. I am productive.

And I profoundly don’t care.

Up until this morning I’ve been not caring and doing it but today it just seemed all too much. Too pointless. The days drag on, one after the other. Do you know how long you have to be awake for? It’s a form of torture. I wish I could get time off for good behaviour. The temptation to do nothing more than sleep and sit is extreme.

My psychiatrist asked why I wasn’t angry. At circumstances, at the weakness of the responses I’ve received to outreach, at anything.

It’s not that I don’t want to be angry. I’m sure there’d be satisfaction in kicking a door. Unfortunately, certain realities make getting angry pointless. Not the list of which being, I’d have to pay for the repairs.

First of all, anger takes energy and I don’t have it. Secondly, if I get angry when I’m depressed, I get mean. I’ll say something cruel I’ll have to live with and I hate feeling guilty. Third, in this instance anger would be a secondary emotion and I don’t want to add hurt to my current feelings of utter emptiness combined with looming sadness and despair. It sounds contradictory but it is what it is.

I’m not thrilled with the looming sadness. I don’t like it when depression makes me sad. But then, there’s much about depression to dislike.

I disliked grocery shopping today. I disliked fighting back tears that would look stupid. I couldn’t even figure out why they were coming except the whole thing felt utterly overwhelming. Of course, grocery shopping is already a challenge.

I should’ve made my kids go. Unfortunately, I can be a little OCD about it and not the cool, trendy kind. On the upside, I now have an accomplishment I can write down and tick off from today’s list.

It will be a shorter list today.

I really am tired. I’m going to let that sentence stand, Grammarly’s protests notwithstanding. I feel the situation deserves the emphasis.