Photo by Sean Oulashin on Unsplash
I just realized that my depression is not on the job.
Is depression taking a holiday? When my Peer Advocate called for my weekly checkup today, I had to report that my depression was absent. Usually, it is on simmer in the background. It waits there ready to flare up at a moment’s notice.
Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen my depression all week.
After 60 years, I know that my depression isn’t really gone. It is right there biding its time. Once conditions change, my depression will make a dramatic entrance. Rolled up in a newspaper will be a plan that it wants me to take a look at. It won’t be written out, step by step.
Instead, it will be the first draft of a plan that my depression wants to make mine.
Well, it wants me to think right now that it is its plan. But deep down, it is laying the groundwork for a full-frontal assault on me. You see, it is never good enough for depression to have its own idea. It has to find a way to make me think that I produced the scheme.
If it just said,” I think we ought to do this,” I wouldn’t pay it much attention.
But over the years, it has figured out ways to plant seeds of ideas. The most recent example of this was planting the seeds of early retirement. My depression is smart waiting things out. It can wait years for its plan to come together. My depression early retirement plan took over two years.
In two years, depression had used its unhelpful thinking styles to gain my commitment to its plan.
By the time I retired, depression’s plan was my plan. Somewhere along the way the idea went from being depressions idea, to being my idea. I owned it and was certain that I had created the proposal. I had used all or nothing thinking to cloud my brain. Depression knew just what to whisper in my ear to get me to come along.
And my depression was elated that I had finally taken the idea and run with it.
Of course, keeping secrets became a big part of the program. Slowly depression would infer that I would be surer of my plans if I didn’t discuss them with anyone. If I asked for advice, I might get an answer that was contrary to my proposed plan of action.
Becoming secretive was the plan going forward.
While I did share my ideas, once, that was more than enough. At that moment, I had done my due diligence. I had shared what I was planning with those who most needed to know. But soliciting feedback and hearing what the other person was saying, didn’t come into play.
But I had voiced my plan and that was the end of the conversation.
By now, I had drunk the Kool-Aid and was ready. Some weeks later, I made the announcement about retiring. Employees and others wished me well. There were cards and gift cards. For the most part, those gift cards are still in a file folder waiting to be used. It’s been close to six years since I retired the first time.
Often, I do not feel worthy of the gift cards.
But that is a different story. I keep telling myself, “If you can’t love yourself, how in the heck are you going to love someone else?” These concepts, as I write them out, are doing a respectable job of awakening my depression.
So, I will stop this tirade and focus on where my depression is today.
My depression usually has things to say about my actions or lack there-of. It often tries to trick me. And I can get side-tracked as a result. But all week, I have not had occasion to question what my depression was up to. It seems it is trekking somewhere or vacationing on a white sand beach with palm trees. Or maybe it’s just in the other room taking a nap.
Where my depression is isn’t important.
What I want to focus on is that I just realized that I have not seen my depression all week. And today is Friday. How did I come into five days depression free? I am much more aware of depressions patterns. But I remember going 15 or more years without a trace of depression.
My guess is that depression was getting an advanced degree in the use of unhelpful thinking styles.
After all, my depression is resourceful. I picture it sitting in class, taking copious notes. It spends time in the library and attends a weekly study group. Depression stays in at night, studying instead of drinking in some cross-town bar.
Depression wants to be ready next time so it can take me down the rabbit hole.
I am not naive; I know that my depression and I will never be separated. Even when it goes underground, which it seems to have done this week, it is still a apart of me. It is attached to me for life, just as it was for some of my family members.
But this week has been different.
It did take me five days to realize that depression wasn’t behind me. But as I think back to the week, it was all good. I have tomorrow off. There is a list I have made of outdoor projects, including mowing in the orchard. I have bags of mulch to spread out, and my new soil PH tester came today.
Not knowing how long my depression plans to be away, I haven’t made too many long-range plans. But the days are getting longer, and everything is greening up. The birds are checking out my nesting boxes. My SAD light is already back in the box until next fall.
It is sad that I didn’t use the SAD light more.
Three years ago, I had a routine down. The light has a timer on it. Set for 30 minutes, I would have it on my desk as I worked. And being rather close to it, I could notice the difference. This past winter, I wasn’t able to find the same rhythm. So, my interaction with my SAD lamp was sporadic. I’m certain this made my depression happier.
Five days does not a lifetime make.
But I am able to enjoy the days. At work, I was available to mentor another employee on numbers planning. It was fun to watch the light turn on as he grasped what I was showing him. Even the varied shifts this week aren’t giving me problems.
Success is in the air, and I plan to grab it and run while I can.
Oh, did I mention I’m a grandfather again? With my granddaughter being born Tuesday night, things have changed for the better. She is beautiful, precious, and is loving her parents’ attention. We are planning a trip next week to spend time with our new granddaughter.
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