Wednesday

When you're depressed, you forget that you're still breathing. You look at your hands, and wonder why you haven't turned invisible yet. Auto pilot is the most popular function to work at. You're hearing everything but you're not listening. Inside it's as if you're either trapped in a dark box with no way out or you're wandering through a gray forest. You don't want to get out of bed in the mornings, finding that the warmth of your blanket is so much more comforting than moving and facing the world every single day. Another blog, Hyperboleandahalf, puts it in such a relatable way. You get bored with everything, and doing stuff like school and even chores just feels meaningless. The writer of the blog also states that when she was depressed, she drifted around, "completely unsure of what I was feeling or whether I could actually feel anything at all." I create a blacker hole for myself by being alone and spending time on paltry things. 

But it's hard to be attached when you feel Detached. I try to make expressions that fit the conversation and/or mood, but when it all comes down to it, you're back at square one, unsure of what to do next. Not sure if this is making any sense, and I'm not asking for sympathy, but I guess I'm just sort of blathering on about what depression is and how I feel when it comes to depressed. The fact that I'm told I'm depressed doesn't exactly make things better for me sometimes. The goal is to eventually climb out of the hole and move on. It's not done very fast, but it's done in your own time, in the right place, knowing that you're not rushed. I have also found that I have been unable to come up with or write any poetry. It's kind of a hobby of mine. But I try to think of a beginning verse, a topic to write on, and I only get a couple words, before the lights in my head fizzle out in sparks. It's hard to even write in a journal. Just recently, I started thinking about what a sketchbook might do to help me out with this. In the movie We Bought A Zoo, the protagonist's oldest son dealt with the grief of his mother's death by making macabre sketches in a notebook. Now I'm starting to wonder if I can start to deal with my depression by sketching it out. Mostly, I just feel gray. And sort of like a computer: unfeeling, just sort of there. I am still doing counseling, and it is helping. So I'm making baby steps, which matters. I don't know how long this will take to overcome, but I know I'll make it onto the other side a different person, but stronger for it.