This morning I woke up from insane dreams about giant spiders, dead spiders, bloodletting, and blackmail. My brain is obviously an interesting place at night. I’ve had a few spider dreams lately, but this morning I woke up, took my medicine as usual, made coffee, and waited for that moment of life to kick in.
But it didn’t happen.
Usually, the caffeine and the drugs kick in around the time I’m finishing my first cup. By the end of the second cup, I’m ready to face the world and do real life things.
This morning I finished my second cup and texted my bad-ass lady group text, “I don’t know why, but I feel sort of overwhelmed with depression this morning. I want to crawl back in bed and ignore the holiday all together.” The general consensus was that depression is a dick and we were all in pretty much of a funk.
Mine has been more of a “I want to curl up in the fetal position under the covers and just cry about nothing and everything” mixed with “I wish I could crawl out of my skin.”
I’m accustomed to the tides of seasonal depression. I know the times of year I’m more likely to be depressed and the times I’m more likely to feel more like a real person. In the autumn, it begins, becomes progressively worse until after Christmas, begins declining in early spring, is a little spotty in June, then I’m good again until October.
The only time I don’t have major issues with depression in the autumn and winter months is around Thanksgiving, since it’s my favorite holiday, which made today especially unnerving.
I love Thanksgiving because it is about sharing food and family and love. There is no gift giving or feelings of inadequacy, it is just a day to share love and food. I just couldn’t today.
I can’t bring myself to call the people I love, because I don’t want them to hear my lack of enthusiasm for life on a day I adore celebrating living. I don’t want my voice to crack and my words to sound disingenuous. I don’t want to be overwhelmed by the love of others while I feel like I’m playing triage in my own head. I don’t want to break down into heaving sobs because I feel I can’t completely reciprocate their love in this very moment.
Depression makes me feel like a failure at loving those closest to me. It makes me feel broken and incapable of anything greater than apathy. When despair creeps into the edges and begins to blot out the joys of my life, I feel helpless…like watching ink bleed all over the pages of your favorite book and knowing there’s no such thing as another copy of your first edition.
I have so many people who love me in this life, and so many I love with all of my being in return. I hate that depression makes me feel as though my love is somehow diminished or dulled, because all I can feel is overwhelming grief. Grief that has no origin, no direction, no ebb and flow, just rising waters.
Tomorrow will be better. Today will get better.
**This post written in haste