No lie. Right now, I am curled up in bed, immobilized by an episode with Depression that’s kept intensifying since last night.
I made it to work today. I got some work done. Was effective at what I absolutely needed to do. And then I realized I was sinking really fast. I decided I should leave.
I got home and tried to enter my peaceful, beautiful garden. But even that overwhelmed me with tasks I should be doing. So I went inside. I’m starving. But I can’t even work up the energy to prepare something for myself.
So, here I am, curled up, hoping I will just fall asleep.
In the meantime, I am trying to make up really stupid one-liners / jokes about Anxiety and Depression, so some semblance of humor / levity can come of how I am feeling.
Attempt 1: “Hey, Depression. You’re ugly and you’re breath stinks.” (Okay, that’s not a joke, but the insult made me giggle despite my overwhelming desire to cry.)
Attempt 2: “Hey, Anxiety. You make coffee nervous. Get a way. I really enjoy relaxing with a cup of coffee and you are unsettling both of us.”
Attempt 3: (I yell to a nonexistent audience) “I’m so low.” (Nonexistent audience yells back) “How low are you?” (I yell back) “Shut up!”
Okay, those attempts at one-liners were nothing but insults that made no sense. But they occupied some time that felt more productively spent than simply wallowing at how impossible it is to move.
Here’s the thing: Sometimes when I have a slight amount of hope despite being depressed and Anxiety-filled, I just want to sleep. I want to sleep to end the current day, because that will get me closer to the day — some day in the future — when I will be better. I simply know that today is not that day.
Here’s another thing: Other than being a nervous wreck, scared of any interaction, and so depressed sometimes I can’t move, things are awesome, and I am a very lucky guy.
- I’m succeeding at work, fashioning powerful campaigns and involving gobs of super people in making positive change.
- Home life is awesome. My wife is the coolest person ever. Our puppy, Franco, aka “the Monster,” aka “My Friend,” is a joy to be around, and he loves me.. And our household is a happy and secure place.
- I am also in the best physical health I’ve been in for years. My body hasn’t looked this good since the mid-1990s. I’ve lost 50 pounds in the past 7 years. Thanks to yoga, I am super flexible, stretchy, pretty strong. I can also do four types of headstands … so that’s cool
If it weren’t for the chemicals in and architecture of my brain, I should feel great, accomplished, and strong. But I feel inadequate, isolated, helpless, weak …. and like I am a terrible comic (see one-liners / jokes above).
Tomorrow, I return to my “get-my-head-out-of-hell” doctor. We are going to agree that our first attempt to find a new med-mix to bring Michael back to normal did not work. So, we’ve got to try something else.
I am super scared of what that might result in. But I can’t wait to start ….
… because two months into hell is quite a drag; I am beyond frustrated with myself; I’m tired / fatigued; and I don’t enjoy spending time with myself at all.
(Raise a nonexistent, alcohol-free glass) “To the scary future. May it be much brighter than today.”
A note to those who know and care about me: I know I will be fine … hopefully someday soon. I am happy (that’s not the right word) with my work to get professional help and working meds. You can feel sad (or whatever) for me. But you don’t need to worry about me. I know the future will be bright. I’m just sharing, as I have a tendency to do.
(Note to self: Wow. This post is a crappy bit of writing. And the jokes aren’t even jokes.)