Unfamiliar Ground

I have never understood depression. That is, until I realised I had it. I always believed that our minds are strong enough to overcome any doubts or "emotional weaknesses." I never knew what it was to not be able to function until I couldn't.

No, my depression isn't filled with days laying in bed crying and starving myself. My depression isn't an overall negative or hopeless view of the world. My depression isn't filled with self-hatred or suicidal thoughts. It is not fueled with drug use or alcohol abuse (though, sometimes, it is). My depression is not without occasional joy.

My depression gives me apathy, causes me to lose interest in everything I was enamoured with before. My depression keeps me from answering the phone, returning phone calls and, when I do, I dread making them. My depression is an utter drain of my energy. I can't funtion on depression. I can't do schoolwork or get a job becauase I can't send emails or make the phone call. My depression keeps me in the house all day, even on glorious Indian Summer days. I feel completely powerless. I am frightened by depression. I don't want to give it power, but it is powerful.

Some days are, of course, better than others. I can still write, though that ability fluctuates. I can still laugh and make others laugh, but only when I have the energy to talk to them in the first place.

I have spent the last two months not understanding my condition, wondering what was wrong with me. I have felt shame and all manner of bad about myself. I have avoided friends and family in an attemptt to hide from myself and from their disappointment, as well as my own. I couldn't get an internship, not because of procrastination (procrastination is only procrastination if you eventually actually go through with the task), but because I didn't have the energy to do the necessary work to accomplish my goal. I am doing poorly in my English course not because it is too difficult, but because I can't find the will to work.

Because I never believed depression is a legitimate illness, I have a hard time accepting it as an excuse for my behaviour. Maybe you prefer to call depression "laziness." If so, then laziness is debilitating and I need help overcoming it. And few words of encouragement have helped thusfar, so please don't tell me to 'just do it.' It's not that simple. I mean, I know it is, but it's just not.

Last night I had a ritual in the backyard to help rid me of my Love Demons. I burned letters never sent to clease my mind of my fixation. I released myself from my own shackles, maybe I even released her in some way. Then I came inside and took a candle-lit bubble bath to physically cleanse my body, taking time to admire my newly gained weight and stretchmarks (beautymarks). I came to bed and fell asleep listening to Tori and had dreams where I was thrust into a situation of living with people I didn't know, à la The Real World or Fear Factor. In the dream I took out mounds and mounds of trash. In fact, aside from choosing a turkey, that was the focus of the dream. I thought about what a wonderful metaphor that was, how getting out of this depression will require a lot of trash removal and how, last night, I was actually taking out the emotional trash I had been pack-ratting all the way from janvier.

Now that I understand my condition better, I feel better equipped to handle it. I don't expect you to understand it, but ask that you are patient with me as I move through it. For the time being, I am planning a period of understanding and absorption. I want to try to slog through this without the aide of prescription medication, though if it comes to that it comes to that. This is a strange place for me to be, but rather than fear and hide from it I'm going to accept and welcome it in. Perhaps I need this before I can function again at full tilt. My worry is that if I don't indulge this, I will never be at full strength again.

If you'll excuse me I am now going to get dressed, open the shutters and let out the cats.