I wonder what it is like to live without depression. It must be such a free feeling. I bet people without depression don’t even realize how truly free they are.
I wonder if my depression affects my mediocre coping skills, or perhaps my very way of thinking causes my depression. I question even my own thought process, doubting that it is good enough.
A few days ago I was on an emotional high. I felt alive. It was great. I accompanied my sister to her surgery one day. Spent the next at my mom’s house. The following day I got more things accomplished than I had in months. Then, I crashed.
Today I argued with myself for half the day to get a shower. If I put it off any longer my husband was likely to build another bedroom for himself just to get away from the smell. All I want to do is lay in bed and sleep. Sleep away my day. Sleep away my life. I force myself to blog today. Force myself to do something that I typically love.
The piece of my mind that is still intact knows that it will go away. Likely a simple rise and fall as my body and mind adjusts to my new medications. Perhaps it’s something else. A rise and fall of reactions that I can blame no one but myself.
Torn between the desire to curl up in a ball in my bed and sleep until today fades into history as so many before it has, or to do what I need and start the laundry and clean the house. To paint a smile until I don’t remember what it’s like to not smile.