This damn depression.
An urgent need exists to grab hold of something. Ground myself to slow this spiral. I’m not in a good place, and for the life of me can’t figure out why.
I have nothing I need to do and should not be worried. Yet I’m fighting the urge to simply crawl under the covers and stay there. I can literally stay home with the blinds shut, away from the rest of the world. Alone in my mind and spinning in place.
I can let the plants die, the piano stay silent and dust covered, and leave the newspapers rolled tight in their rubber bands. The rare text left unanswered, the emails unread.
The constant worry that something is wrong consumes me, and I often fret the day away. Closing myself off is not the answer, I realize.
My only true duties center on the two dogs, they need food, water, a walk, and lots of love. It’s a great relationship, don’t get me wrong, but there’s the void they can’t fill. They know something is going on inside me, and stay by my side anyway.
My wife helps all she can, but doesn’t fully understand this disease. She knows the pain I’m going through, how it controls me. I can lean on her more but don’t. Maybe out of fear that she will offer up a rebuke for not getting on with life. By the boot straps, move on.
I have lots I can do, all my distractions. Lately they don’t seem to fill the void either. They are just a moment where I give my undivided attention to something, besides the depression that swallows me up. But I’m losing those simple things, those moments, but not from lack of interest.
I find this depression sucks the joy out of anything and everything. I wanted to do so much, but even writing today is difficult. Trying to think straight is difficult.
I’m not giving up or giving in though, this battle is one I’m familiar with. At least I can recognize it for what it is, and know I can still fight.