A visitor today

I didn’t expect to write this one but I felt compelled to document my experience today. Not seeking comfort. This is just real talk.

1:30 p.m. Today nothing feels right. I got up before 5 to walk my dog. I watched the stars dot the darkness above me, then disappear as the sun illuminated shades of blue sky. I hugged my kids and had breakfast with them. I did yoga. I worked, sent emails. I ate. I had coffee. I journaled. I wrote in my daily gratitude book and thanked my brother-in-law for giving it to me. I talked to an old friend on the phone. I spoke with my doctor about my recent fatigue. I started and didn’t finish writing anything.

Some of it felt ok. Some of it was good. Some of it just was. All of it also didn’t feel right. But now, this is me crashing hard.

I’m not saying this for pity. I’m sharing this experience because when I try to explain how the bottom feels, by the time I’m out of the hole I can’t quite describe this mental limbo. Nor do I want to. I’m out of the dungeon, why would I want to look back?

What I learned about my experience with depression is that it can creep up, set up camp, and bring uninvited friends to the bonfire. I’m now stuck in the smoke and everything reeks. I could say that this came out of nowhere but it’s been tip-toeing in my life the past few weeks. It slapped me across the face today. It’s not a coincidence I had a phone appointment with my doc about my lethargic struggles lately.

The only thing that feels right is doing nothing and, when I say this, I mean curl up, lay on my tiny office couch, look at the white wall, and allow the numbness to sit in and around me. I will succumb and listen to this body for once. Stillness and nothingness is best.

3:30 p.m. Now I feel tingly. Still terrible.

4:15 p.m. Gabe checked in on me. I didn’t want to open the door for him because he’d try to make me feel better. Sometimes the effort to do something positive when I’m in this state jolts me further backward. 

“I read somewhere that when I’m like this I need to seek social connections with people I love,” I said, touching his knee, my face wincing, cringing.

I succumbed and did not listen to my mind this time and had to force myself to touch my husband.

We looked at each other. Then we laughed at my sweaty hand awkwardly placed on his leg. It was a moment of happiness and I’m thankful for that.

This is the thing about dealing with my mood disorder. Once I’m in a good groove with my medication and all the positive practices I’ve incorporated into my routine, I assume and hope it won’t come back, even though I know it could – and always does – visit whenever it wants. I had a good streak. It’s been since early Spring that I had an episode. That one lasted months.

4:55 p.m. Gabe encouraged me to take a walk with him. I knew this was another thing that’s “good for me” even though I still have the numbing sensation. I didn’t want to move but all the experts say that exercise will help. Well guess what, it didn’t. I got as far as my next door neighbor’s house and my body is made of cinder blocks inside and I cannot lug this weight around mentally. 

6:20 p.m. The kids made up a game of obstacle course in the living room, centered around a cardboard box and blocks. It involved jumping on our ottomans and meowing like cats. I enjoyed watching them. The feeling was not forced, like it typically would on days like this.

6:45 p.m. Laid down flat on my back outside, with a striped pool towel as a blanket, watching the sky. I’ve seen all the different moods of the sky today. I hit another blip of feeling unwell and I wanted to “nothing” again so I slept for 10 minutes.

8:15 p.m. Decided to still go on a trip to see friends tomorrow, something I had hanging over my head all day. I didn’t know if I could go through with it with my current state. Decision-making during down days is like climbing a mountain, slowly, while dizzy. I don’t know which way is up, down, and where I’m going. 

I feel OK. I don’t know if I will feel better when I get up to pack. But I’m going to try.