The funny thing about depression is that it is a sneaky bitch. You can be “normal” then wake up and just not care about the things that used to matter. It steals your deepest joy and saps your motivation. Seriously, depression is a bitch.
Depression is not what many think it is. I still can watch a funny movie and laugh. I can still find some enjoyment when I sit on my porch and drink coffee. I just don’t have the need or desire to do the things that meant so much to me. Writing this? It’s so hard to string words together that make sense. I can’t come up with simple words at times, much less words that don’t repeat, because I can’t think of complex words.
Depression isn’t sitting around sobbing all the time and giving off “woe is me” cries. Some may do this, I guess. I don’t. I lose the ability to care about the simple things. The things that made life so fulfilling before. If I’m not writing, I’m usually reading. Right now, I’ve clawed up the side of the pit to at least be able to concentrate long enough to read. A few weeks ago, I’d have to read something several times before I could comprehend.
So many things have created this dark well. The perfect storm of events, actually. First, the fact that my husband was underground the day the Upper Big Branch mine exploded on April 5, 2010. He did survive but we both are covered in emotional scars and deal with PTSD. This time of year is always like walking in a minefield.
Second, while our lives haven’t changed due to the coronavirus pandemic, we still feel the stress. Our home is located in a rural area, so naturally, we are separated from our neighbors. We have a big yard so we can go out and get fresh air without worry of bumping into any other humans. Also, our area has very little infection rates.
Am I lucky? Yes, I know I am. Do I worry about my family? Absolutely. My 74-year-old mom has COPD, my husband has black lung from working in the coal mines, my son was discharged from the military due to a lung issue he got from serving overseas. Each of these people are the biggest part of my life. My parents live in a more populated part of the state, and in a county with the highest infection rate of our state. My daughter-in-law is considered an essential employee and is required to work and be around possible carriers. While I don’t dwell on all of this, it still plays a part in my depression.
I feel robbed of the joys of life. I’ve been on antidepressants for a while now. After UBB, both my husband and I were under the care of therapists and psychiatrists. They gave is medication to help. While he was weaned off his, I’m still on mine due to the third issue that exacerbates my depression; I suffer from Fibromyalgia.
I have books that need to be written and I feel like I’m letting down any person who wants new material. I’ve tried forcing myself to write, but the result is so terrible I delete it all and feel even worse about myself. I’m not saying all this to get sympathy, but to let people know depression is a black hole that sucks the life and joy out of a person.
I can only hope that once I’m out of this pit, I’ll be able to look back on this and not beat my head on the desk. I don’t have a clue if any of this makes sense or if I have my thoughts organized. If it weren’t for Grammarly telling me that I need a comma or pointing out misspellings, this might be unreadable!
While this world is going through this hard time, I hope that each of you finds the support you need. If it gets to the point that you are at the end of your rope, call the Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-8255 or visit the website. Because we will make it through this and I want to make it through with all of you. If you just want to reach out to someone you can email me. I can’t offer much but a supportive shoulder and an ear to listen (or eye to read). Hang in there with me, we can do this.
Also please, reach out to your friends and make sure they’re okay too. Much love to you all, and until next time, be good to each other.