I woke this morning.
That’s where the story could very easily end. I woke up. Huzzah. Accomplishment number one of the day.
But sometimes, waking isn’t just an act of opening your eyes and rolling out of bed. Sometimes, waking requires intention, courage, and strength. The are mornings when I just want to remain in bed all day and not have to deal with this thing called life. That’s quite counter to who I am because I typically do not like to linger in bed.
My normal sleep pattern is to get in bed around 11 and wake around 6. Get in, get out.
Lately, that has not been the case. Lately, I’ve crawled into bed around 9:30 (after having finished writing my last word for the day), reading for a while, and then turning the light off, hoping like hell my gummy will whisk me off to dreamlands unknown. On the other end of sleep, I wake whenever, read Heather Cox Richardson’s latest missive, and then…
…try to muster the strength to get out of bed and confront the day.
Yeah, “confront.”
If you’ve recognized the signs, I’m in full-blown depression. I’ve dipped in and out of this for some time now, and it’s been an exhausting exercise in mental futility. I hate it and I want out.
Not in the way you’re thinking.
I’m tired of suffering under the cloak of depression and the cloud of angst. At the same time, I’m not afraid to admit that I’m not well. Sadly (ironic, right?), the more I think about it, the more I realize that this has been going on for a very long time.
I hate it.
I loathe it.
I want to do something about it.
I want to start seeing the good around me. I want to start feeling positive about life in general. I want to feel like I have something to offer a society that is in desperate need. But mostly, I just want to heal from decades of staring down the unforgiving gaze of depression.
For the longest time, I escaped depression with my art: acting and writing. I thought it was working, but what was really happening was that I was simply masking the depression with one false pretense or another. I lied to myself over and over and over. The depression was still there; it was just hidden under an artifice.
How do I change?
That’s the question, eh? How does one remove the cloak of depression and wave off the cloud of angst? I’ve had people say, “Just think positively” or “look for the small victories in life.”
Do you know how that sounds to someone who’s depressed? It’s like saying to someone, “Smile, you’ll look prettier.” Sure, you can fake a smile, but who is that for? It certainly isn’t for the person smiling. Trust me, if I could “think positively” my way out of this, I would have a long time ago. And I do look for the small things, but when those small things are eclipsed by what my brain perceives as one gigantical boulder of grief on my shoulders, those small things don’t stand a chance.
One thing I can think of doing is helping others. Sometimes, the act of helping others helps me to learn my own lessons. I can give myself all the advice in the world, and never hear it. At the same time, I could give someone else that same advice and finally comprehend its meaning in a way that could possibly help me.
The single most important change I need to make is to prevent some of the cycles and patterns that are self-inflicted and harmful to me. The good news is that I’m starting to recognize them. The bad news is that it’s going to take a Herculean effort to stop them. But isn’t admitting the first and hardest step? I certainly want to think that. If so, then I could very well be on the path to ending this pit of glum I’ve been wading in for so long.
As well, I’ve only just admitted to myself that I’m in full-blown depression over the past few months (after decades of denying it). Now that I’m finally starting to face it, maybe I’ll develop the tools necessary to finally stave it off.
If you are having similar feelings, don’t hesitate to reach out. Let’s help one another.
Thank you for listening, my friends.
Follow
Email Post