This space has been silent for some time, despite my best intentions. It hasn’t been a case of having nothing to say; I normally do not lack for words. There have been other forces at play. It would break my heart to see my best intentions become yet another abandoned blog, so I will do my best to soldier through. In order to do so, I must be honest about myself.
I had not originally intended to venture into my life issues here, but that avoidance is going to have to be forced to the wayside.
I am having an episode of depression. There, I said it.
I was diagnosed several years ago, and my bouts grappling with this condition have been a recurring theme in my life. It comes and it goes, but when it there, I cannot begin to grasp the darkness that seems to envelope the world.
I don’t want this to become a blog about depression. The world doesn’t need another one of those, and I fear that any insight that I might have would seem paltrywhen compared to that of other, more articulate folks.
That being said, feeling the way I do continually at the moment — the lethargy, the lack of interest in things that I normally love, the desire to never leave my apartment, even to get food — is a burden that is crippling. What makes it even more so is the shame I feel at being perfectly able-bodied and yet not functional. Able-bodied, yes. Able-minded, no. There is a stigma, and a shame, and it only makes things worse.
I’m off of my medicine, because I am currently unemployed and cannot afford them. The job market has been bleak for me, even as college graduate. Things seem dim. On a rational level, I know that no matter how bleak things seem for now, they have been there before; I know things get brighter. Every valley, no matter how deep, has to become a trough. The problem is, of course, when your brain is shrouded in depression, the rational part of your mind, however articulate, just doesn’t get much purchase as you dwell upon the darker thoughts.
It isn’t loud, flailing, or demonstrative; it is quietly bleak and suffocating. You feel like you’re burdened with the weight of a large reservoir that grows heavier and heavier and all the while you wait, quietly paralyzed and in deep fear of that moment when it is going to burst and you are going to drown. You wonder if this is going to be that time, the episode, that inevitable bout demon-grappling that is going to be too much to overcome.
No matter how many people surround you, you never feel more alone. It is even made more torturous by the fact that you know the way you feel isn’t healthy or remotely normal, but there is nothing you can do about it. It just is.
I know I am not alone in suffering this. That’s the curse, of course. You know the things you know. They make sense; they’re internalized. They just do not matter.
So it is soldier through, like before, and hope that tide will eventually recede again. That is the cycle of my life, and I know it is as well for so many others. When you meet a stranger tomorrow, be kind, because you have no idea the silent burden they might be carrying.