I talked with the family. I spend time with the friends. I spent time away from work. I spent time doing the work I enjoy. I spent time in silence. I spent time with music. I spent time awake, asleep, and in meditation.
I let go of an animal who was ready to go, and I brought home a new animal all rarin’ to go the other direction. I petted the cat and talked to the parrot and played with the goats and weeded the garden and made cheese and yogurt and the connection between some foods and the god-awful heartburn that has been getting worse.
I got some of the truck’s problems fixed and I know exactly what I need to fix the rest of them. I went to work so I could get paid so I could fix the rest of them.
I poured offerings and burned incense and whispered thanks. We’re planning our first community Midsummer and the planning is going well. I’ve made more human connections in the local community than I ever expected too- and there are more coming.
I stayed hydrated and I took my vitamins and I kept the junk food to a minimum.
I did everything right.
So why does it still feel like everything is wrong?
Why does it still feel like every laugh is poison, and everything I touch will break?
Why do I want to do anything but get out of bed?
Why do I find myself screaming and raging against some inanimate object because I’m so upset over some minor thing that I’m approaching blind rage?
If you have ever been here before then you already know the answer. If you’ve ever curled in around yourself and cried yourself to sleep even though not one single thing actually went wrong, then you already know how depression breaks humans. If all you want to do on a warm sunny day is hide in your house even though the mess you perceive in the house makes you even more upset but you can’t deal with it so you’ll read a book instead… you know what it’s like to live with clinical depression.
There’s no cure.
Living with depression is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I’ve done a lot. Getting out of bed when the only thing I want is for everything to just stop is the hardest part of any day. Or maybe it’s laying down again and trying to sleep when everything is wrong and the only thing waiting in the darkness is your own sourceless hurt and anxiety. It could also be trying not to interpret my housemate’s every word as a personal attack…. not that it isn’t
.( He’s got this nasty habit of having to one-up me in every conversation which… for the record…. is something you really, really shouldn’t do to someone who already has to fight to not crumble under the ever-increasing weight of their own self-hatred. Of course, trying to explain this usually results in him asking why I hate him or why I’m trying to start a fight…. hmm… maybe there is an external exacerbator after all.) Even if he is making it worse, he didn’t start it. This was here long before he got here. Some things help, some things make it worse, but nothing makes it go away.
There is. No. Cure.
And most people will never believe you, because it has no externally visible symptoms.
May is Mental Health Awareness Month. On one hand, I’m glad to see that issues of mental health are starting to get some of the recognition they deserve as serious threats to human lives. On the other hand, at the end of the month my depression will still be there, and most of you will forget to think about it again.
Don’t stop thinking about mental health concerns and the humans around you. Don’t stop at the end of the month. Because we can’t.