I can feel the pull, but am resisting the slide.
I’ve been told that we all have an inner voice as we talk through our thoughts in our own mind, an on-going conversation. Even the sanest of the sane has this voice, their own, that is human nature.
We answer ourselves if need be, at times out loud to emphasis a point, or voice despair.
The questions comes more frequently, “What’s the matter, what are you worried about?”. A simple unvoiced question of concern, to myself and no one else.
As the pull of depression increases I’ll answer, out loud “I don’t know.”
My wife asks “You don’t know what, hon?”
“Oh nothing.”
I’ve told her of the calm brought on since my depression has eased for the last few months. I have come up for an extended breath of fresh air.
Now the question comes once again, more often, and still the answer remains the same.
“I don’t know.”
That’s the joy of chronic depression, I truly don’t know why I worry. Feel that there’s something wrong or bothersome. The frustration over not being able to master or best this feeling. Like a constant game of chess where I continually lose.
This time needs to be different, mainly because I cannot risk going back down. My body is getting tired of the fight.
I can’t cure myself, and doctors have been helpless to date, except for the dose of Abilify. It’s been agreed to by my doctors and myself that I need to be the judge on the need to start up again. And since I’ve been thinking about it, maybe…
I can’t cure myself, but am optimistic that it can be managed. A sense of hope anyway.
Maybe that’s all that’s needed.
TQK