Unable to People
So you’re lying in bed having one of those days; covers up over your head and your head under a pillow, because even the slightest noise makes you wince; and you cannot tolerate even the slightest touch — not even from the furbabies. On a day like one of those days, your personal space is sacrosanct, and no-one or no thing is permitted to violate it.
And then your loving husband walks in whilst you are pleasantly cocooned in bed, (Hey, at least it’s not the closet this time.) and he suggests that you all should go and run some errands. At this suggestion you bury your head even further under the pillow and pretend that you can’t hear him. Unfortunately, though, he ignores your attempt to play possum.
“Come on. You know your Therapist says you have to go out once a day to make sure you shower.”
You lie there and wonder what it is about Depression that makes you not want to bathe? Is it possible that you want your outside to mirror the foulness of your inside? You can’t figure it out right now, though — your brain is far too fuzzy — so you resolve to ask your Therapist the next time you see her. If you remember. Maybe you should make a note on your phone. If you remember. You usually can’t remember where you last saw your phone. Apparently, short-term memory loss is a symptom of Depression — as if Depression needs anything else to make it dreadful.
Anyway, he is apparently going to make you People today, even though you SO cannot People right now. It is almost impossible to People when you want so very much to just shut out the world.
So you get up and shower and get dressed — all the while cursing him under your breath. (And sometimes, not quite under your breath whenever he’s near enough to hear you mutter.)
And then you go run errands: to the hardware store; to the grocery store; to the Post Office; sometimes to the library. Sometimes he even tries to bolster your spirits by taking you to your favorite Mexican joint, to see if chips and salsa will work their usual magic.
Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes you People well enough to successfully endure your little excursion, and sometimes you want to scream at everyone around, “QUIT BREATHING MY AIR!”
When that happens you tell your husband that you are all Peopled out and you want to go home. He always obliges.
Once home, you crawl back in to bed and turn your mental voicemail on:
“I’m sorry, the person you are trying to reach can no longer People. Please try again when she is able to People.”
You hope that it will be sooner rather than later; being unable to People is really pretty tough.