I'm not sure I should post this. It used to be easier to make these decisions, when my blog was anonymous. It didn't matter because nobody would see me later and feel the need to express some sort of sympathy or well-wishes. That's always so awkward in person, because I know this will never go away. The cycles will complete, and I'll feel better for a while, until it begins again. This is just the bottom. I hope this is the bottom.
I'm going to post this, because I want people reading to have a better understanding of what depression is from the inside. I'm posting this for the sake of those times when I feel better, and can't find the words to explain what it was like being on the bottom.
~
Right now, I feel very little. Little enough that it should frighten me, but it doesn't. It just is. Everything just is. I feel no need to get out of bed. I feel no need to leave my house. I do these things anyway, because my rational mind is still in charge, mostly. It's a cold rationality. It's empty, but it's right. I don't get up and interact with the world because I want to; I do it because there are other people I've made promises too. I know that if I break those promises, I will not be acting as the person I want to be. There's nothing in my heart that cares, but my head knows that later, my heart will care again. More than that, my need for fairness is anchored in me somewhere deeper than my heart, somewhere deeper than my depression has yet touched. For now, I feel dead.
The only spark of emotion I felt today was when I got angry with Archer. I was wrong to be angry with him, but at least I felt something. The anger was only skin deep, and it faded quickly, but it was something, and that's a good sign.
My heart still leapt to hear his voice on the other end of the phone when he called me. Not so high as usual, but still. Something.
I still felt anxious when we started talking. Not the good anxiousness I usually get, but still. Something.
I got angry when he seemed to be blowing me off. He probably wasn't, but maybe he was. I don't know. And now that the tiny burst of anger has faded, I care to find out, because I know I should. My heart doesn't care. My heart is blank.
But I know that if I could just hear a whisper of love in his voice, my heart would jump again, and everything would be a tiny bit better. And that thought, somehow, brought me a shadow of pain. I think that's a good thing.
- It's gone now. -
I'd like to apologize to him, for feeling so little. For not being supportive of him. For getting angry.
And I will, if he will pick up the phone.
Somewhere under this blanket of nothingness, I ache for him.
I'm going to post this, because I want people reading to have a better understanding of what depression is from the inside. I'm posting this for the sake of those times when I feel better, and can't find the words to explain what it was like being on the bottom.
~
Right now, I feel very little. Little enough that it should frighten me, but it doesn't. It just is. Everything just is. I feel no need to get out of bed. I feel no need to leave my house. I do these things anyway, because my rational mind is still in charge, mostly. It's a cold rationality. It's empty, but it's right. I don't get up and interact with the world because I want to; I do it because there are other people I've made promises too. I know that if I break those promises, I will not be acting as the person I want to be. There's nothing in my heart that cares, but my head knows that later, my heart will care again. More than that, my need for fairness is anchored in me somewhere deeper than my heart, somewhere deeper than my depression has yet touched. For now, I feel dead.
The only spark of emotion I felt today was when I got angry with Archer. I was wrong to be angry with him, but at least I felt something. The anger was only skin deep, and it faded quickly, but it was something, and that's a good sign.
My heart still leapt to hear his voice on the other end of the phone when he called me. Not so high as usual, but still. Something.
I still felt anxious when we started talking. Not the good anxiousness I usually get, but still. Something.
I got angry when he seemed to be blowing me off. He probably wasn't, but maybe he was. I don't know. And now that the tiny burst of anger has faded, I care to find out, because I know I should. My heart doesn't care. My heart is blank.
But I know that if I could just hear a whisper of love in his voice, my heart would jump again, and everything would be a tiny bit better. And that thought, somehow, brought me a shadow of pain. I think that's a good thing.
- It's gone now. -
I'd like to apologize to him, for feeling so little. For not being supportive of him. For getting angry.
And I will, if he will pick up the phone.
Somewhere under this blanket of nothingness, I ache for him.
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