I’ve never been depressed.
I was always proud of the fact that through all of my mental health issues I could confidently say ‘I have never been depressed’.
Don’t get me wrong, I have felt depressed.
I am a woman!..
..and we are impressively unstable when it comes to emotions,
but I could safely say that I had never felt the cold, unquenching, dull of nothingness, that I have realised depression could be.
I question what depression is. I question what it feels like and I wonder, if I have to ask those questions, am I really feeling it.
All I know is that I am tired of trying to be stronger than I feel.
Summer has already gone, and Autumn is just ending, but it feels like it happened yesterday.
It’s only been 6.5 months. 109 days, and can you imagine at 2 months in I was asking people if I was grieving too long.
I was so self conscious about people thinking that I was being a whiny Bitch, I was judging my own grieving process. I can see now how ridiculous that was. I can see now that I was in a state of denial about the whole situation.
I don’t know how I am going to feel when I wake up in the morning, but one thing is for sure, I am going to feel exhausted.
Not that I have done anything, at all, to exert myself.
Unfortunately, what I am exhausted from, is existing.
NOTHING feels real, and EVERYTHING wants something from me.
This room wants me to tidy it. Food wants me to prepare it. My body needs me to wash it, and feed it.
Clothes to clean, Bedding to change..
..My mind, and the bags under my eyes are begging me for sleep, and that’s just the basic necessities of my own existence.
I have a child, and she needs all of those things plus love, time, interactions, mental stimulation, conversations, reassurance.
But why end the list there.. When there are bills that want me to pay them. People that have to audacity to want anything from me, including a conversation, Or the answer to a simple life question “how are you”, and feeling justified in their snotty reaction to the no response they will inevitably receive.
How the fuck DO you think I am.
My partner Has died and on top of that I am living In a shitty women’s refuge, that feel it is perfectly ok to take away my basic rights of just wanting a glass of wine in the bath, or allowing my daughter to even use the toaster in the kitchen, because of some cunting situation that means my home isn’t safe to exist at any more.
What I want, is to slide down the crack between this mattress and the wall, and cease to exist. At least until I don’t feel like this anymore, which will probably be never, or tomorrow, who knows.
Nothing feels real.
Yes, I have an anxiety disorder, and yes I have Adhd, but this is more than that.
One thing that does feel real is the exhaustion, and I know depression is real.
I feel like I’m sitting at the bottom of a barrel, while someone is slowly pouring cold water over my head. So slowly that I’d probably die from the anticipation of drowning. I hate being wet, and I hate being cold, but I will stay here, I’m not even going to try and get up.
The plates in the corner of the room, they can build up, until they feel real, because I can’t seem to move for anything less than brutal reality being slapped in my face.
My face is buried so deep under my Duvet, cushioned by a fog despair, ain’t nothing gonna slap it..
Or if it did I wouldnt feel it.
I received a letter jeopardizing my source of income, and I don’t give a flying monkey..
..because nothing feels real.
Am I depressed.
I just can’t tell.