5:07

Depression is a weird thing.

I’ve been struggling with depression for almost ten years and I still don’t understand it. There was a time when all of the signs were the same and it followed a pattern and I really thought I understood my depression. I got better about understanding how to deal with it and how to keep it from becoming debilitating. I was impressed. Around November of last year, I noticed I wasn’t depressed anymore. I would always tell people, “for now. I don’t think I’ve cured it or anything, but for now it’s gone.” And it was. I wasn’t bothered for ages. I was happier than I’ve ever been before and I just kept getting happier. Everything felt right. I was more optimistic. I was more patient. I was more gracious. I laughed more. I sang more. I danced more. I was closer than ever before to the person I wanted to be. I really thought it might stay that way because it kept staying that way. I knew it couldn’t be true. After all, how could it? But I told myself I deserved to let my guard down, to let myself be happy. I needed to live in the moment and not fear the end. So I exhaled and the moment ended. It all crashed down around me leaving a dark dusty cavern with walls that went on forever towards an unreachable light. But from November to March I was happier than I can remember ever being before.

March was a different story. The first week of March was numbness and tears. I couldn’t feel anything but I kept crying. I was very alone. I worked because I had to but I don’t remember much of anything. The second week was much like the first but I regained feeling in my anger. I was mad at what had changed. I felt hurt for being abandoned by my happiness. Why now? I kept working which meant I kept acting like everything was normal. I don’t know how I did it. So much had changed but I couldn’t let anyone know. I expressed surface level emotions to solidify my character of normalcy but it wasn’t me. I worked and I worked, harder and more hours than ever before. I got sick and kept working. I felt physical pain compounding on the emotional pain and didn’t know if I’d be able to handle it but I had to keep working. Week three I thought I was going back to normal but life didn’t stop. I kept working. I didn’t have time to process what was happening so I just kept going. Week four was the same as the third and every day started to feel the same. Dark and lonely and empty. I kept going. I don’t know how or why but I did. I just did. I kept working and helping people and trying to find whatever I was looking for but the search seemed endless.

So April came. I decided it would be better. It only takes a mindset, right? I was ready to tackle April and make it my time to shine. I tried to be more positive and more optimistic and more of who I wanted to be. I just got more and more tired. I didn’t want to go anywhere. I wasn’t hungry. I felt stagnant despite forward steps. I didn’t feel right and I didn’t realize it until I stopped everything kept going. I was on autopilot. I realized my body had been fighting my mind without me knowing it. It was doing just enough to keep me going. I was eating when I normally wouldn’t. I was going out when I didn’t want to be anywhere but home. I was texting people just to check in because I knew I needed some semblance of social interaction. I’ve gotten so good at being depressed that I don’t realize it. I was proud of the fact that I hadn’t gotten depressed when everything crashed around me. I was proud that I kept going. Those are not the same. I was more functional than usual but I was still depressed. I still felt stuck. I still do. That’s just how it is. I’m proud of how I’ve learned to handle it. The funniest part was me getting frustrated with my writers block and not realizing it wasn’t because I couldn’t get my thoughts onto paper, but because I couldn’t get to my thoughts. And now we’re back.