Psychologists consider Depression as the “common cold” of psychological disorders. I’ve never met a person that didn’t have some form of it. From just a little sadness, to full-blown.
I know I have it
I’ve never been medically diagnosed or treated for it, but if you know you have a hairy toe-you don’t need a doctor diagnosing you for it. A hairy toe…is well, a hairy toe.
What’s my depression like? I have days where the dishes remain unwashed, the phone remains unanswered, the floors remain sticky and the kids remain neglected. I feel tired, not just a sleepy tired but a tired to the bones-where it’s hard to even walk, or go to the bathroom. I kind of zone out, I can’t really hear anything or even think really. I’m unresponsive and I push everyone away.
I’ve managed to find ways to overcome my depression. Having something fun to look forward to helps me get through the days that I’d rather just sleep through.
The more depressed I am. The more daytrips, the more plans, the more projects I make and take-on.
I bet, that if I were to create a diagram with my level of depression and the daytrips that I have been on, they’d be completely correlated.
I was in the shower tonight and I was thinking about all of the places and things we did in the month of August. It was kind of staggering. I was upset about letting my son go, releasing him from my protective wing and entering him in Pre-K. Letting someone else watch and teach him was a difficult thing to accept. So, therefore we went and did and went and created and went and played and went and went and went.
I am perfectly aware of my depression, even when I’m experiencing a bad episode of it. It’s almost like I can see myself from the outside. Messy, unresponsive, grumpy and disheveled. My son, knows instinctively that days like that, are a freaking-free-for-all. Bouncing on the furniture and watching movie after movie after movie. (Now, before you call child protective services on me. I’m always aware of my depression and I work through it. The kids still get fed and taken care of).
But daytripping and planning things gets me through it. It keeps us out of the house and it keeps me happy.
I’ve never talked about this to anyone before. I don’t want to be judged, I don’t want to hear that I’m crazy or ungrateful.
I’m perfectly aware that my life is pretty fantastic and that I “shouldn’t” be unhappy, that I “shouldn’t” be depressed, that I “shouldn’t” “need” to “do” things.
But you know, it’s not something I can help. It’s not something I’ve chosen. It’s just something that happens to me and I have no control over it.
The reason I have shared this, even if it means very little to you-is that maybe this will mean something to someone. Maybe someone who does know me in real life, but perhaps didn’t know that I have bad days with greasy hair and sticky floors will feel better about themselves. Knowing that everyone has bad days, even people with seemingly good lives-means that we’re all the same and that we’re all going through the same crap.
It means that we’re not alone.