What I’m here to say is that “feeling depressed” is a different beast than “having depression.” Depression is a diagnosable medical condition and a disorder in the DSM-V. It affects many more aspects of life than just emotional. Some symptoms can severely impact the quality of life for people with it.
My depression is really bad lately. I find everything meaningless. I don’t even feel happy in a quiet bit of nature. I hate having depression.
It was the longest period of time I have gone without a psychologist appointment since I first began treatment three and a half years ago. And I was getting weird, real weird.
Depression isn’t weakness, but I don’t feel strong. Depression is clawing her way back into my consciousness. Usually she dwells in a spot hidden away, and when I put her back she stays there for a while. This time, it’s like the lock is broken and she is not staying put.
I allowed a seed of anxiety to grow and take roots in other parts of my psyche. It is kind of like when a tree brings water up through its roots to nurture itself, only in a much more fucked up and non-poetic kind of way.
Today depression came up again. Buoyed by shorter daylight filled hours, the negative number in my bank account, an unrelenting sick feeling of headache, stomach pain, and mainly my brain and body reverting to default state.
I still don’t like speaking of it, of this fear, I don’t want people to become intrusive about me. I don’t want the worry of people who don’t understand because they’ve never felt this way.
I can’t say anything. He wants me to tell him if I’m ok and I am trapped in my head, but not in my body. I can’t move my eyes to look into his.
As they walked away the baby girl watched me and smiled and then started giggling with joy. As if our encounter had tickled her as much as it did me.
I think I’m emotionally eating. I really need to not do that. I have to be really careful with addictions. I could very easily become an alcoholic I think. I need to be so careful to never do that.