Today I am depressed. It started yesterday – the fatigue, the extreme irritability. I just thought I was crabby, but then I woke up this morning and my old friend, Depression, was lying in bed next to me. I got up and took care of the dogs (as I always do despite my many moods). Then I went back to bed. I woke up around 2. Got out of bed at 3 so I could eat some chicken soup and take one of my antidepressants. Then I went back to bed after sending my boyfriend a text message that I was depressed today and that I felt like a total loser. I like to prepare him for what he is coming home to.
So what is this depression I speak of? It is not sadness. It is hopelessness. Everything becomes hopeless – relationships, cleaning the house, my book ever being published. And it is this enormous weight. It took me an hour from the time I woke up to trudge downstairs to make soup because I needed that much time to muster the strength to move.
There is this elephant sitting on my chest trying to squish me into not breathing.
I’m so tired. Exhausted. Weary.
I don’t want to talk because I am uninterested and also because it’s too hard to move my mouth to speak. My tongue is an anvil.
And I am not cute. No, sir. I look like I’ve come down with the flu. Dark circles under my tired eyes. Blemishes out in all their glory. You can imagine what short curly hair looks like after a night and day tossing around in bed.
In this moment, I don’t want to be me. I don’t want to be beautifully bipolar. I don’t want to feel like gravity has a special effect on me causing movement to feel like running through molasses.
I can imagine nothing that will lift this weight but time. Perhaps tomorrow I will wake up beautiful again.
Image courtesy of David Castillo Dominici at FreeDigitalPhotos.net