Today my limbs felt like they were full of lead. I woke up, which, in and of itself was disappointing, and I knew I was going to have a dark day ahead of me. Sometimes you just know.
Today simple tasks felt impossible, my sense of worth didn’t even register on the self worth charts, and the prospect of being social felt like cruel and unusual punishment. I’d lost my reasons for being alive. Maybe they’re under the bed. Maybe someday I’ll find energy to care.
Today, the only thing that made any kind of sense at all was lying motionless under every pillow in the house. In the closet. There I wouldn’t see the piles of laundry and other overwhelming household chores encroaching and mocking my fear of them. The machines are too far away, and all the lifting…
Today I wondered if I was sick. I wondered if I had some kind of fatigue or nerve disease or vitamin deficiency or rare form of cancer that causes me to feel completely incapacitated. “Depression” was the only diagnosis I needed to apply, but it felt much worse than just that.
Today Depression told me that I would never be good enough or well enough to have a normal life so I shouldn’t even try. It told me that I was crazy for quitting my interesting, challenging job and taking an intentional step down the career ladder. “What were you thinking?!” it said, “Do you really think this will make you happy? HUH?” I wanted to acknowledge that it was telling me lies, but my defenses were so…wait, was I getting up to do a load of laundry? Maybe I do have a little fight left in me.
A little later today, after completing a single load of laundry, I drove myself in a haze to a local coffee shop so I could be around other human beings. I couldn’t get the WiFi to work on my laptop so I didn’t get much writing done, but I was out of the house (and wearing pants). At least a homeless man sat next to me and stacked piles of trash in my personal space, and the man across from him chewed his sandwich with his mouth open which made me want to flip the table… Maybe I have more than a little fight left in me.
Today I don’t feel like I accomplished much, but I know that I actually accomplished more than I thought I had the strength to accomplish. And I lived to tell the story and fight another day. I’m calling it a victory.