Wednesday, February 17, 2016
Depression is rearing its head again and dragging me down.
The problem is internal and of the mind, but has physical knock-on effects. Most mornings I can't wake up or get out of bed. Doing basic things like washing are a trial and effort. Depression sucks the will to live or do anything at all.
It's why I haven't started the knitting yet.
I can use the excuse of my son living in the front room after his mother kicked him out, but it's just that: an excuse. I could bring it into the bedroom, which is large, sit in the computer chair and knit there, but I don't.
Instead I do easy things that allow me to forget life. Anything that requires effort is pushed to one side, even though I know finishing them will do me some good. I won't go outside, though I know the fresh air will help.
The loneliness can be suffocating, but I do have friends, just no one that will sit in peace and quiet and share the silence. There's always noise, chatter, movement.
Struggling alone is not easy, yet the groups I come across aren't helpful. Yet more noise, more chat. A reading group would be good, but I can't find one.
Part of me fears retirement, another part looks forward to it, to retreating from the world and isolating myself from its horrors. It's over a decade away and a lot can happen in that time. The question is, what will happen.
Only God knows the answer to that and he's not telling.
If you see me around, give me a big hug. Don't say anything, give me warm words of encouragement or tell me it'll all work out. I've heard them so many times, yet here I still am.
Just a hug.
That will do more for me, or any depressed person, than any words of comfort can ever do.