While fighting an episode of depression one day, I started writing to give my hands and mind something to do other than just sit and stare into space. This is the result of that moment…
I feel nothing. I can barely feel the keys as they are pressed beneath my fingers. I check my pulse with my heart rate app to make sure it’s still beating. I feel like I’m floating in space, but not the exciting kind that’s the result of a ride on the shuttle. My breathing feels shallow, almost like my body is saying, “I’ve had enough of this feeling. Just let it end.” With that last sentence, I remember why I continue to breath.
My husband. My son. My friends. I fight the sadness, but it doesn’t feel like I’m fighting at all. It feels like I’m sitting, alone in an office I don’t want to be in, struggling for my life. Struggling to find that happy place.
Heck! Struggling to remember what happy is.
I start to name off things in my head that make me happy. My husbands smile, my son’s laugh, hugs from my friends, but as I name things off, I start to realize I can’t remember anything else to add to the list.
What a sad life it is to only be able to name off three things that make me happy.
I start to think back to trips on the Disney Dream and a glimmer of hope shines, but then quickly fades. I remember once again that I’m trapped in an office that I don’t want to be in, doing a job I’m not fully satisfied in. I want to reach out for my teddy bear, but he’s on the other side of my office and I feel paralyzed in my current position. It’s hard to keep writing, but it’s how I’m reminding myself that I am indeed alive.
I hate it when someone says “this too shall pass” and they’re right. This will pass. And eventually, another episode will hit. My only hope is that I will have a happy moment when it’s over to get me through the next one…