Dear Depression…WTF?

I am always hard pressed to define “depression”..
Dark cloud over head?
Black veil pulled over the consciousness?
Forcefed muscle relaxers while being blind folded?

What is depression, exactly?

I can honestly say today…I am feeling it, even if I can’t quite define it. It’s just this all encompassing tint over everything I see, feel, touch, smell…No rose colored glasses here. Just a haze of black smoke obscuring my view of anything that might signify hope, faith in humanity, or a point to this whole life thing.

Mind you, this is not how I want to feel.
I want to feel great and bouncy and hopeful.
Something is denying me that.
I have lots of crappy things going on in life that could give me “the blues”.
But this has been going on so long and it’s not merely triggered by the crap circumstances. I’ve been perfectly stable, mood wise, during the worst crises of my life.
Depression doesn’t give a fuck.
Not do the people around you. As intangible as depression is for sufferers, it’s nearly beyond the imagination of those around us. It’s much easier for them to dismiss depression as a character weakness, lazy, shiftless, unmotivated, negative, pessimistic…

Depressive days like this remind me of the “good” old days, prior to being smacked with the mental illness label. When I was manic and then depressed and everyone just called me “moody” , “mercurial” (oh, like these idiots know any big words, but you get the gist) and my favorite, eccentric.
Liking Halloween decor year round is eccentric.
Bouncing off the walls with joy for a few months then sinking into an abyss where you just want to die…
That’s an illness.
But back in my manic pre label pre medicated days…I worked. I made money. I had freedom. Given, not a lot, bills and all that. But I felt so good about myself, so worthy, so hopeful.
God, I miss that.
What I don’t miss is the resounding crash into the mood abyss that, like clockwork, appeared every year as seasons changed. Or I’d get very manic and decide there is no tomorrow, no need to worry, just fuck this, I can do better.

Instability personified.

But I had hope.
I didn’t think there was anything wrong with me that therapy couldn’t fix, that I couldn’t “counsel” myself out of.
The labels, the repeat cycles, the fact no matter how hard I try nothing every changes for more than a couple of months…
I’m not merely eccentric or lazy.
I have an illness. A metastasizing chronic illness of the brain that fucks up every aspect of my life, good or bad.
So is that why I am depressed today?

Tis the thing about depression. It makes no sense, there is no logic.
Much like a manic episode can result in laughter at a funeral, depression, too, can distort things and cause your behavior to be inappropriate in relation to the situation.
I have lots of reasons to be anxious and stressed.
But depressed?
Not really.

So…scumbag brain…What gives?

I mean, how far down the rabbit hole do I have to go before something gives?
I’ve actually been pondering drugs lately. Not in any serious capacity, of course, it’s just never been my thing. Drugs inhibit my ability to do everything and that won’t do.
But the psychological torment wears you down, especially when you don’t know where it’s coming from so you have no clue how to combat it.
Shrooms? Weed?
Or maybe get a sitter and try Ecstasy for the first time just to get a glimpse of what it’s like to think life is beautiful?
Seriously, how far down the fucking rabbit hole do I have to go to get some relief from the darkness I can’t begin to explain because I don’t even see anything in my life to be all that dark about.
I could comprehend if I were sitting here thinking all gloom and doom. “This didn’t go right, this went to shit, I hate this, everything sucks, why bother.”
But instead I am pondering, this is right, that’s ok, I’ll get over this, nothing’s really changed and I’ve managed before so…

If anyone has the answer to that question, you could totally take down big pharma.

Ha ha ha.
I went out into the dish…And that was when the tears hit.
Ha ha ha ha.
So I fled the scene of the crime, as it were, because I am surrounded by ass hats who can’t put their own egos away long enough to think it’s not about them, it’s not about me being a bitch or weak…I am just struggling. Drowning, actually.
I fought the tears so only a couple got loose but still…FUCK, why did it have to hit in public? I did the pms thing not ten days ago, I can’t be in that cycle again.
So I really am just this depressed.

The thing about depression…
is that it turns you into a robot.
You make the appropriate noises, expressions, feign interest.
Yet deep down, under the mask of normality, you know it doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad.
You’re just beyond caring.
Not about people or things you love, just…generalized giving a damn.
You feel so empty and devoid and it’s so much garbage in/garbage out. You want desperately to care, to mean the smiles you force, to feel the joy.
It’s just not there and the more you try to force it, the worse it gets.

Not sure last week’s up and down manic spurts were any better but it beats the fuck out of plotting your own demise in a passive way because you’re fairly certain it’s never going to get better than this and everyone around you would consider it a mercy killing were you to just die.
Damn you, depression.


2 Responses to “Dear Depression…WTF?”

  1. Soggy raincloud
    Lead balloon
    Concrete boots
    A kangaroo punch
    A becalmed boat

    Situational problems would be so much simpler than pathological ones :/

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