As another year draws to a close, I’m still here. Alive.
Now, that may not sound like that big a deal to you, but all my fellow depression sufferers out there can appreciate the significance of that statement, because they know.
They know how much of my time is spent in absolute indifference to everything and everyone, and much of the rest of my time I’m depressed or angry.
They know nobody wants to see any of that, so I try to hide it around other people. Except my poor wife, who gets the whole experience, making her life much tougher than it ought to be.
(I truly hate that.)
They know self-care is not much of a priority, despite focusing most of my attention on me. My doctor tells me exercise helps with depression, but if I don’t care about exercising…
They know that, deep down, I actually hate feeling like this, that I actually want to get better, but I’m my own biggest obstacle to that process. I stopped seeing a therapist; I mean, if I haven’t taken to heart the suggestions she’s offered me already, what’s the use going anymore?
And they know the indifference can occasionally skate out onto the thin ice of desperation, hopelessness and even suicidal thoughts.
So, to still be here – living, breathing, at the end of another year – is, if not an accomplishment, a relief, at least.
Fortunately, I know, worst-case scenario, I have lifelines to hold onto so I don’t fall through the really thin ice.
Which is good to know.
I know this is the time of year to be jolly, and I’m sorry if I just dumped a bucket of cold water on that. I just wanted to let you know how I am as we approach a new year. I don’t know what’s in store next year, but somewhere in me is the hope that I can begin to move forward, mentally and physically, toward better health.
Meantime, I promise to have as Merry a Christmas as I can. 😊 Please do the same, all of you. Enjoy family, friends, food, music, decorating, shop…no, not shopping, forget that. But all the rest.
’Tis the season, after all.