My biggest accomplishment today was unloading the dishwasher and turning on the lights in the house when it got dark outside. I had gotten up at 7:00 AM, and at 5:00 PM I looked at my full cup of coffee, which I finally carried to the kitchen. I then sat in the shower for two hours and just cried. I hated it, as I always do, because I don’t understand. I have everything, and should get on my knees daily to thank for it. It still makes me feel ungrateful even I know its not the real me. Or maybe it is, but not the one from today.
I scrubbed my skin and hair with the milk-honey soap I made two month earlier. Rose – Myrrh, my favorite. I used up a month worth of it, but I couldn’t even smell the beautiful scent. My vision was blurry now for two days, and I had electro shock like sensations going through my whole body in few second intervals. I wanted to wash away the sadness, the despair, the void, the terror and numbness my brain inflicted on me again. I hate being this way.
I cried and cried. I cried about everything and nothing. The tears just wouldn’t stop, they poured out of my eyes while I sat in the corner of the shower with my arms around my knees, the water pearling down on me, in endless crystal clear strings, like rain on a tent. But not in the calming way. The tears wouldn’t stop when I got out drying off. They wouldn’t stop while getting dressed. They just wouldn’t fucking stop! Like a leaking doll. Get it together already!!
The sadness was again an endless raging storm from my eyes into my soul, or the other way around. It feels like frost in places life should feel warm, but my heart felt like fire. I went over my reader inbox, and was responsive because they all know just to well from own experience. I didn’t have to act to be ok. They know I am sucking right now, they know my story, my scars. That I will be alright again, and that often humor is all we have left . Morbid as it might be.
I talked to my husband about my oncoming depressive episode a few days ago. Usually he is gone when it happens, which I am always thankful for. I don’t want to worry him. I don’t want him to see me like this. I do not want to sadden him with a condition I can’t shake for his sake or mine; life throws enough at us.
I don’t want him to know that I can’t recall the time of day it is, if I ate, or that I can’t watch TV at the moment because my vision is blurred; that I have no attention span, and that my hearing is altered right now. Everything is amplified and an overload to my senses. My head hurts, and all I want to do is sleep away this terrible time where I am not ME.
But this time he was here, and I couldn’t hide the red, swollen eyes, the tears, and the pain my brain inflicted on my very being. My very core. And it sucked.
I will get through this as I always do. As long as I still communicate and silence doesn’t win over, as long as I cry, and not completely go into the void, I know I am good. I got this.
But today, tonight, the last few days, my life was taken by the Black Melancholy as Luther and Lincoln called it almost romantically. And no Absinth in sight, to go through it in style as the victorian poets did! No, no.
Tomorrow is another day. It will be good. It must be. I miss them all so much. Each loss takes something human out of you. I am stronger because of it. I have to believe it. Because I am still here. And I can’t go yet. Depression is a tyrant!
Love and light to you all,