Le sigh.
Depression is a funny thing. Some days I can manage to get out of bed, shower, put on make-up and things are kind of okay. Like, I'm functional. I can interact with other adults, I can do my job relatively well, and I can feed myself. These may seem like simple tasks, but when you're depressed, trust me, they are small victories, every single one. On days like these I believe I can make it through. I believe that maybe it's *not* depression, maybe I'm just lazy and stupid and I need to get over myself. Like, I don't have any kids, I'm still gainfully employed at a job I love and that pays me really well, I'm healthy, and I'm surrounded by people who love me. On days like these depression is easy to dismiss.
But then there are days like today. Days when just the idea of getting out of bed seems overwhelming. The thought of interacting with people in a meaningful way seems impossible. Like, could I talk to my friends? Yes. Would I be good company? I seriously doubt it. On days like these it's like I can't stop crying. My sadness and loneliness and general state of ennui just take hold and I can't seem to get past them. I'm like Sisyphus and my depression is Mount Everest. On days like these I forget to eat until it's like 9pm and I've got a raging headache and the only option is cereal but even that feels like too much damn effort. It's been a long time since I've felt this bad - years, really. But when it happens, I can never seem to get ahead of it. I guess we really are doomed to make the same mistakes over and over forever.
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It's frustrating, this weird depressive state. Like, do I have a viable reason to be depressed? In 2020, yeah, kind of. The world is fucking on fire. The single most important presidential election in modern times is just over a week away and our entire democracy is on the line; the possibility of serious political unrest on election night is real and fucking terrifying; we've been in a state of lockdown for nearly eight months due to a pandemic that our pathetic government refuses to control in any real way with no end in site; and to top it off, my relationship with the dude ended just about three weeks ago. A perfect recipe for depression and anxiety, right? And surprise! I'm not alone. Lots and lots of people are dealing with the same feelings I am right now. I mean, misery loves company, amiright?!
Every day I see posts on Twitter and Instagram telling me that it's "Okay not to feel OK right now." And some days that does give me a bit of comfort - I'm not alone! Everyone's lives suck right now! Let's all cry and whine and flop around in bed and stare at the wall for three hours together! But then there are those days when social media tricks me into believing that I have friends who are A-OK. Those friends who seem like they've got their shit together and are powering through, pandemic and political unrest be damned. And I admire those friends, I really do. But goddamnit if they don't make me feel this tall, ya know? And don't even get me started with the people whose situations are far worse than my own. Holy fuck, have I got it easy, so what the fuck is wrong with me? Why can't I just get my shit together like every other goddamned adult and POWER THROUGH? The truth is, I don't know why I can't. I try, I really do. But right now I'm not doing so well. And that sends me into a shame spiral, which just kind of makes everything eleventy billion times worse. It's like for every day that I can get out of bed and maintain some semblance of normalcy, there are two or three days where I. Just. Can't.
Le sigh, indeed.
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Addendum - shoulda just thrown up this link to Hyperbole and a Half because she fucking NAILS depression.
