I’ve been feeling just the slightest bit off lately. Tired, a bit listless, waking up with a stomach feeling wrenched. Tender. I think it may be a little wave of depression not fully here, but just at the edges of my periphery, and if I try to turn my head to look, it slides out of my vision.
On one hand, I’m doing a good job of keeping it there, on the periphery. It’s a testament to all I’ve learned about how to care for myself, how to identify triggers and find balance accordingly. Of that, I am grateful and even proud.
On the other hand, I’m sad. I wish it wasn’t like this. I wish I didn’t have this extra “thing” in life making it harder.
One of the things that happens in my little waves, is that I start to bum myself out over the fact that I have these little waves, and then that makes the wave bigger and move faster. Even when I can see the wave coming and tell myself I know how to batten down the hatches and ride out the wave, I still spend some of my energy feeling angry. Indignant. “I shouldn’t have to do this, why can’t I just have smooth water?”
And I know, life isn’t all clear sailing, blah blah blah.
The thing is, depression, as minor as mine is, adds a heft to the otherwise normal ups and downs of life. A cloud. It makes it really hard to take things in stride, to prepare for and respond to the storms life cooks up. It makes everything seem heavy, weighed down, about to sink in smooth water let alone in turbulence.
So I guess it’s both an extra wave in my life AND weight in my little boat. Maybe the metaphor falls apart, but that’s sure how it feels.
It adds a layer of tragedy: none of it seems fair.
Another twist: it’s all internal, a function of how my brain is wired, but that means I’m doing it to myself, right, so I should “just” be able to grit my teeth and bear it and just go for a run you’ll feel better.
I’m doing my best to steer around this wave while also preparing for it to hit. I hate it that I have to keep my eyes peeled for these waves. I think I’ll always hate it. I don’t know how not to hate it. Even when I’m feeling my best, I still hate it. Maybe that hate is adding to the weight of it all, I don’t know, but I just can’t imagine looking at depression with love. If anyone can, please let me know, because I’d like to learn how to at least not be angry with it. I notice myself being generally more irritable and misplacing my anger (how DARE THAT PERSON roll through a stop sign when it had NO EFFECT ON ANYONE THE INDIGNITY OF IT ALL.) <eye roll>
I guess this is one of those blog posts that’s more about me needing to write something to face it and move on, than it is about communicating something, so thanks for putting up with me this morning. I’ll just be over here, giving the stink eye to this little wave.
Sorry if I yell at you in traffic.