It’s that feeling, the one where everything starts to move in slow motion. While moving in slow motion, you feel everything more intensely. Every touch, every feeling, every sensation, it’s like it is turned up to max. There’s no motivation to do much of anything and all you want to be is home, your safe haven. The house is a disaster and you are ok with that. You have as many piles of dirty clothes as you have baskets full of folded clean clothes that have just not quite made it to the dresser or closet. You are snippy and witchy. You have no tolerance or patience. You hear a sad song on the radio and you start to cry while you are driving. You look forward to bed time each night and dread waking up each morning. As you are lying in bed you tell yourself that you must get out of bed. Propelling yourself out of bed, walk down the hallway and pour yourself some coffee. Interact with your family, be human.
When everyone is gone and its time for a shower, you stare at the shower and tell yourself, you must shower, that is non-negotiable. It is something that must be done every day. Post shower the getting ready part is treacherous. Let’s put forth the best foot and pick out something business casual as opposed to jeans and a flannel because you know you will feel better if you step up your wardrobe… don’t forget the makeup and styling the hair.
You get out the door and start your commute. All the while driving to work, the self-talk is in motion. Telling yourself that you will be productive at work, you will have a good attitude, you will make the most of the day. Once you arrive, you take a deep breath, tell yourself that you’ve got this and open the car door and put your feet on the ground. You keep telling yourself, “you can do this”, “you’ve got this”, “it’s a mere 7-hour day”, “you can handle this”.
As the day progresses, you can’t concentrate. Your mind goes between blank and over crowded. Your memory is not at all what it used to be. Staring at your monitor you will your brain to remember why you made that entry. While on the phone with your boss, you look down in attempts to concentrate on what he is saying and to be able to think hard enough to summon up an answer, a correct answer, an answer that is not, “I don’t know”.
After triumphantly making it through the day, the trek home is stressful and is dreaded as much as you dread waking up in the morning. You arrive home and tell yourself, yet again, that “you’ve got this”, “you can do this”, “this will pass”. Greeted by the children, you feel a lightness. You realize how lucky you are to have them in your life. But as the night progresses, you neglect chores and schoolwork to literally walk in circles or sit and stare at the wall. After you make dinner, you settle in and just wait for 9 PM to come along so you can go and crawl into bed and wander into no man’s land for nine hours.
This is depression. This has been my life. This is getting real old. This must stop. This is temporary. This too shall pass. I’ve got this. I can persevere. I will press on. This will not defeat me. I will fight this. I am beautifully and wonderfully made.