I hear well-meaning voices at the surface. They call to me with the pull of everyday life - there is grocery shopping to be done. Laundry to be washed. Motions to write. Clients to call. A child to bathe. A family to spend time with. And yet.....they are so far away. I can't quite reach.
And yet, I cannot fail to do these things. Can I?
And yet.
I am having a tough time with my new acquaintance, Depression. In fact, I really don't like her at all. She conceals the best of myself from me. She steals the things I love most about myself - my energy, my warmth and affection, my drive to succeed as a parent, a spouse, a lawyer.
She does not care about any of that.
Of course, like any other human being, I've been sad before. I've cried over disappointments, losses, sad situations, the troubles of friends and loved ones. But I've always rallied. I have never let the sadness get me down to the point where I can't perform the basic tasks of daily life. I may be less happy, of course, and teary-eyed, yes, but always functional.
One thing I have always prided myself on is my ability to rise to a challenge. To identify an obstacle. To get it before it gets me. Even when I'm exhausted, swamped at work, up half the night with a sick kid, I've managed to do what needs to be done. And I do it well.
I even did it recently, after my dad passed away. I was exhausted from flying. It was my second trip back home to see my parents in several weeks. But there was nowhere else in the world I needed to be more than right there. I stayed overnight on the hospital floor the night before dad died, along with my mom and my brother - the three of us, crowded into that little room, keeping vigil. We didn't want him to be alone. We knew the chances to be together as a family of four were fading with the sunlight.
Then we made the funeral preparations. I made a slide show, a retrospective of my dad's life. We had the visitation. We had the service. I even spoke at the service. I kept my crying to a minimum. I desperately wanted to stay strong for my mom. There were more important people and things to focus on, by far.
And that is where I shine. Like many people, I suspect, I am great at managing crises when I have to and I'm great at taking care of others - but not so great at taking care of myself.
But now, I have returned to reality, and it's a new reality of which I'm not entirely fond. I am acutely aware of the empty spot where that drive, that determination used to be, and wants to be again. It feels foreign. It is not me. There is a void that I need to fill. I need a jump-start. I need something. I don't quite know what it is.
I cannot muster my typical energy. I either want to do nothing but sleep and snuggle with Anna, or I vaguely want to try and accomplish something, to work, write, clean, whatever - but with each effort, I encounter this dense wall of fog that has consumed my body, mind and spirit. I miss fun with my family. I miss the challenges of work. But I can't quite grasp them, reaching from wherever it is I am now. I'm just not there yet.
I suppose I was hoping that writing this would help. That maybe talking about how I feel would spur me to take some sort of action. I know I am hardly the first person to hang out with Depression, nor will I be the last. And I also know I have it so much better than many people. But I remain mindful that my dad once struggled with clinical depression, and so I am wary of this feeling.
What fight I have left in me will be directed toward preventing it from swallowing me whole.
Call your name every day, when I feel so helpless
I'm falling down, but I'll rise above this, rise above this doubt.
--"Rise Above This," Seether
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