Why do I feel lifeless when so many things are good?
What is causing this enormous hole in my day-to-day feelings?
The list for today was made yesterday. Many things on the list were crossed off as completed before lunchtime. So what? I just want to feel better. Feeling better is all I want. Not great, spectacular, or even above average. Simply better than I do.
Faking it is so tiring.
Being strong when I’m not is immensely tiring. And I have got to fake it for several more days. There is a lot coming up. Maybe that’s all it is. Or maybe I don’t know why some people who are up against the wall, don’t move. I was up against the wall, with no visible way out. But now I am here, 15 months later, with options.
READ: If I Live Through This…
But a part of me is still up against the wall, and I don’t know how to unstick that part of me.
So, I know what it is like to not see anything, any way out, any option at all. And those days when the rock is a freaky’ boulder the size of a semi, and the hill is a vertical cliff-like Yosemite’s half-dome. How the heck do you push a boulder up that? My mind seems to be working in sound bites. I’m afraid to admit that someone I met; someone I was in peer support meetings with has committed suicide. He had been going to On Our Own for nine years. COVID 19 took that away in March when we could no longer gather.
Without face-to-face with his mentors, peers, and the support they provided, he checked out.
That makes me angry. Not at him, but at how life throws things at us. It is not fair, but it is a fact of life nonetheless. All of us make choices every day. We continue or we don’t.
Self-care is a way we can recharge our batteries.
Yet I for one do not always make time for myself, for some sort of self-care. 15 months ago, there was a chance that the suicide could have been me. I talk a great game and have convinced myself that I am too frightened by the possibility. That is probably true, but those thoughts can come along at the most inopportune times.
The young man committed suicide very recently, after his own version of hitting the wall.
I know that the day-to-day of being up against the wall can make seeing any way forward exceptionally difficult. There are days I am better, but I know part of me is still up against the wall, feeling there is no way forward. Even with all the tools, talking and medication, a part of me is still there.
Do I try to get past it or live with it?
With mindfulness, I can see those thoughts appear. Instead of entertaining them, I envision them floating past me on a stream, tumbling over the tops of the rocks, and disappearing around the bend. In 5th grade, a friend’s father started his car in a closed garage and committed suicide. I knew my friend from school, but I had never met his father. I met the young man at On Our Own. Knowing he is gone is frightening. I cannot imagine what he went through. Or what his parents and family are going through.
Knowing what my suicide would mean for my family, I am resolved more than ever to abstain.
Yes, I say I am competitive and want to live to see 100. And coming to peace with death has not happened for me. I am extremely far from that. Using the pandemic as an excuse, I have stopped my therapist appointments. Doing phone meetings, I was saying to myself that my therapist was probably working a crossword puzzle, instead of hearing what I was saying.
Getting these going again would be a helpful way to self-care.
At age 18, I had a gun pointed at my face when I was robbed while working at a gas station. If I close my eyes and think for a moment, I can still see the slugs in the loaded revolver. My mind today is as disjointed as this blog post. I feel so sad for the young man. 15 months ago, it could have been me. People thought I was dead. They were checking the obituaries. How crazy is that? To be so far gone that’s what people are thinking? Being afraid to let anyone see behind the curtain has fueled depression’s grip on me. I am a wonderful reporter; I can tell you exactly what happened. Just don’t ask me how I feel about it.
That’s when I clam up.
Feelings are messy, facts are crisp. Doing drive-bys are the way I am most comfortable talking. Doorknob conversations, a quick how do you do, and I am off. I never have to feel anything that way. I can stay in the light of the day. Those shadows hold uncomfortable emotions.
I am so sad he is gone. So sad that the rock was just too big to push anymore.
My concealed depression is written under the alias “Depression is not my boss.” I have certifications in SMART Recovery and am a Global Career Development Facilitator.
Diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder last year, I am sharing what I learn.
If you know someone who might benefit from reading this, please share.
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