More Espresso, Less Depresso!
Well, at this point, I've had a pot of coffee, and the weight of the cloud is still "there", so let's just say that caffeine isn't the solution.
But neither is whining about it, so I'm going to share a little something something about what I'm doing to work through my current depressive episode. I shall call this, "Divulging from the Deep".
I'm sure we've all seen depression described as many things - heaviness, darkness, sadness, loss of interest...my depression is like a void. I also refer to my vagina as a void (her name is "The Abyss"), but my vagina is way more fun than my depression. Ask my husband.
My depression slithers in slowly...serpentine...seductively. It whispers to me about how exhausted I must be. That I've been working so hard; I must be sleepy. It's been such a long week...I should just cancel existing for a while. Don't worry about creating content or a selfie - don't worry about Snapchat or Twitter or OF...nobody wants to really see me or my body. After all, I've gained so much weight in the Quarentimes, do I really even feel like looking at myself?
Now that you mention it, Depression...no, I really I don't.
Exactly, child. For that matter - don't bother working out, or eating well, or eating at all. You shouldn't eat. You're such a disastrous mess...how did you let yourself get to this point?
I mean, there's a pandemic...everything just...stopped. This happened to a lot of folks, you know...
Not as many as you like to tell yourself, you foolish child. Look at all the people on Instagram...they managed to keep it together - even with the gym. You've just gotten lazy. You had better be careful - your husband isn't going to stick around if you don't get your shit together.
That's not what he says. He's not going anywhere.
Mmmmm hmmmm...right. As if you're anything to hold a flame to a tight little thing 10 years younger than you are? Listen to yourself. You're not making any sense. Trust me. Nobody is going to want anything to do with you. Just go to bed. Stay there.
I have to work, you know. I have a job. I need to work.
So, do your job. You work from home. Nobody cares, as long as you get your shit done. Then just stay in this cave I've made for you. You belong in here. No expectations. No interaction. No having to put on a "social" face. Just crawl in. I'll tell you what...I'll let you have just enough energy to get through your work day, and to be clear enough for your family...but when you're alone - you have to stay in this cave with me...and just hide. Nobody's thinking about you, anyway.
I can't tell if you're being nice...but it is so inviting. And you're saying I can still do all my stuff and carry on, even from the cave? I'll think about it...I am so tired...
Think about it? Oh no, foolish one. You're already inside. It's done. Lay down. You'll be here for a while.
Fuck.
If you know me well, you might start to recognize the pattern - I basically disappear. No social media interaction, no messaging. It takes all my energy to "be present" for those immediately in my sphere, so I take a break from everyone else. I won't apologize for it; it's what needs to happen so that I don't burn out. Besides, I'm being told by my own mind that nobody will miss me, so no pressure.
And so, in these times, I get out of bed, put my time in to work, get my shit done. I do my best to parent. I do my best to be a supportive wife. My son and husband both tell me that I'm good at these roles - that I'm a great mom and wife. So, I must be making it work. Despite the serpent's best efforts to convince me of otherwise, my son still wants me around, and my husband doesn't want to find a new partner.
Nothing lasts forever, and so these episodes, too, pass.
After a few weeks, another voice starts to be heard. Far away, at first; as though it's trying to call to me through a fog. I hear it's thin message telling me to eat some fruit. Take a shower. Put on some makeup. Use a fun facemask in the bath. Wear something pretty. Take some pictures. Go for a walk. Do some squats. Over time, it gets louder...and thanks to therapy, she doesn't take "no" for an answer, anymore.
"You've been low. Maybe you should get some nutrition! How about some yogurt and a banana? Drink some water, too. Nourish those organs.
What? Where are you? You're not the serpentine...
"No, I'm going to help get you out of this cave. It's dark in here...and it smells. Let's get you in the shower, too."
I'm tired, I just want to lay here.
"Uh, no. That's not an option anymore. You have things to do. Things to create. Fabulous lewd selfies to share. Sex to have. Get up, get going. Let's make you something to eat."
I'll just get fat. Er.
"Maybe you're not as 'fat. er" as you think you are. Let's eat, shower, and then you can put some lingerie on, and you'll see that you're doing just fine. C'mon! Self care awaits!"
But the serpentine...
"Do you see them around? No? Me either. Guess they're out for a walk or something. Maybe they're not as close as you think."
Sure enough...the serpentine shrinks back into the shadows, which now feel to be more just behind my shoulders, rather than pouring over my head. Over the next couple of weeks, it gradually moves further and further away...and takes its place, at that safe distance. I know it's there. We have a mutual respect, even though it sends me little notes now and again to seed doubt. But when the supportive voice is around, it feels easier to read those notes, and burn them.
I'm not sure that there's a particular trigger or series of events that invites the serpentine into my world; I just know that it happens a few times a year. It used to bring sharp things; it used to pinch and scratch and slam my head against doors, walls, floors. It used to starve me and make me vomit. I've managed to build enough self protection that it doesn't hurt me physically, anymore. It doesn't convince me that I shouldn't be alive. Eventually, I think I may even get it far enough away, that all I hear from it is the occasional spiteful note.
Until then, we'll just keep dancing.
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