I Wouldn't Wish This on Anybody

I'm not really in a position right now to talk about where I'm at.

Which is only to say, I don't really know how to say where I'm at.

I'm struggling. I'm hurting.

It's been about two weeks I guess, maybe three now, and I'm just...floating. I'm not sinking. But I sure as heck am not swimming. I'm floating.

And I don't know if it's just where I'm at, you know, emotionally. Or if it's really an uptick in this sort of thing. But I feel like every where I look someone is telling me how depressed their favorite show is making them, and how their grocery list is giving them anxiety.

So, I don't know if it's my heart kind of just aching to be heard, or if maybe I'm the only one that's gonna try and die on this mountain, but that misuse of language just...oh y'all, it just throws a wrench in my heart.

More and more I think there is a distortion about what depressive episodes really are, and what anxiety and panic attacks really feel like. Sure, they sound far more dramatic. That is because they are.

And I think it bears repeating that when you live with these things, it is language like that that makes you think, you have no idea. And, usually, that is totally true. They have no idea.

Though, I do get that twinge of resentment. Not gonna lie on that one. I also usually end up thinking, still as much as I've been through, and as damn hard as it is to explain this pain, I don't wish this on anybody. 

Not even my worst enemy.

Because this is constant pain. And I know that's hard to comprehend because, bless it, I've got a lot of coping mechanisms.

But depressive episodes aren't just being lonely, or crying during This is Us, or feeling bummed that you don't make millions of dollars a year. It's more than I can tell you guys. It's more than I can physically remember, because it's my life, all day, every day.

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And I don't wish that on anybody.

I don't want anybody to spend 9 hours in bed, crying.

...to go without a shower for 28 hours because it hurts to even think about getting up.

...to have to convince themselves to brush their teeth.

...to convince themselves to eat.

...to quietly whisper, it's okay, you're okay as you try to just drink some water, or make coffee, or put on pants, or wash your hair, or type an email.

...to not be able to make it through a 6 minute drive without crying.

...to feel guilty that you can't do your laundry, you can't get groceries, or make your bed.

...to spend weeks wondering if you are ever going to smile, or laugh, or feel joy again.

...to lose friends, because you can't bear to be in public.

...to fail at work, because you are spending your existence trying to survive, and you can barely wrap your head around that.

...to stop wanting to watch TV, read books, listen to podcasts, and every thing else you ever enjoyed.

...to pause your own life for days, and weeks, and months because your brain refuses to do anything other than...float.

I wouldn't wish that on anybody.

I don't know where I go from here. But to be fair, I usually don't. I know there is another side to this mountain. I know there's a flow to this ebb. I know that as many times as I've been right here, it has always passed.

So, hang in there (here?) with me. We'll get to that other side.