The following is from yesterday, it’s not eloquent. As I’m sure most of you know, mental health challenges don’t exactly lend themselves to fully functional cognitive abilities. I’ve been riding this massive wave of transition lately in all aspects of my life and it came to a head this week. I’m learning that major upheavals on fundamental levels in my life be they good or bad, are big triggers for me. So instead of waking up yesterday feeling grateful for seeing my family, feeling the love, and having a killer dinner together, I woke up with a big fat cloud over me.

I was grateful for it anyway because as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I have a built-in protective mechanism that blocks out a good majority of my past mental illness experiences and their accompanying symptoms. I quite literally can’t remember on a granular level most of the time what it truly feels like to be depressed.

It all comes back to me in tsunami-like form however when I’m in the thick of it, so I’m thankful for the reminder because my intent here and in my work is to be able to relate to those dealing with mental health issues so I can be of help. It’s hard to help when I can’t fully relate because I’ve subconsciously blocked most of it out, so the reminders really helpful. What else is helpful is documenting it, for myself, and for you. And so, I’m grateful for my episode yesterday, even more grateful for having been able to process it and enjoy the holiday, and grateful I put my feelings into words. Here they are:

“It starts with waking up to the feeling of my body being really heavy and letharged, not wanting to get out of bed physically or mentally. The world outside is cold and complex, it’s almost holding me down where I lie. It’s alright, It’s safer here. The world is all going to be sensory overload anyway. The lack of motivation and will are far too familiar. The dread of the day ahead, even when it’s an easy day ahead filled with family, food, and love. Body aches and a dull, unforgiving headache. A wash of slight sadness over my being but for reasons I can’t fathom. A cynicism toward whatever lies ahead of me, none of it feels worth any effort. My body is slow and defunct, so is my outlook. My brain is foggy and still, and at the same time busy in the background full of useless noise. All I feel like doing is achieving unconsciousness again, I feel like I could sleep for a hundred years. The thought of that gives me a little relief. I don’t wonder what’s going on out in the rest of the world around me because I don’t care. There must be a storm cloud above me because I can feel it weighing me down, it might even be sitting right on my chest because it feels heavy there and kind of hard to breathe. I pay attention to the expression on my face and notice a natural frown. I have no appetite and realize I’m parched but with no plans to do anything about it. I could really use a shower, it would probably help. No plans for that either, and no will or energy for any of it. What can I do? Staring at the ceiling, my old friend. Checking out. Why that does so much for me when I feel this way? I believe it’s because I’m fried and my brain really appreciates the blank white space rather than the cluttered dark noisy mess that otherwise exists. My vital energy has been robbed, my mental sharpness and clarity are gone, too. I can’t even access the more descriptive words I’d normally be using to describe this experience because I haven’t got them right now. Everything is so tired. And this is a mild day, a mild experience. One where if I really try, I can begrudgingly drag myself slowly out of bed and start my day one chore at a time. Everything is a chore when I feel this way, and I slog through my day just waiting for it to be over so I can either maybe start feeling better, or just let it be over and eek a little joy out of going back to bed. My shinyness is dulled, my vibrance buried under this heavy existence that I will endure for the day. The hardest part is having no rhyme or reason behind it. Maybe if I knew what was causing it I could do something about it. All I can really do is acknowledge it and try to press on taking as good of care of myself as I can. But even that’s too much work for me right now, I haven’t got the energy or motivation to take care of myself and so I fall deeper down into whatever’s got it’s hold on me today. I hope it will fade away and I will get myself back. My head hurts and I hope so much deep inside that this will last just one day that it makes me a little emotional. This is no place for me to be and I don’t deserve this, it’s not fair. It’s not who I am. I want it to go away. It’s like a vicious monster from the closet that I have to fight for my life and my only defense is to feebly throw feathers from my torn pillow at it as I watch it creep closer and closer toward me, threatening to eat me alive. I feel so weak. So I take a deep breath, wipe a tear from my face and make the decision to start somewhere, anywhere, by getting up and brushing my teeth. The simplest thing, but the absolute last thing I have the energy for or want to do. I remind myself that I love myself and I deserve to be here and to be happy, then I put my feet on the floor, I feel my lower back ache, and go from there. I look forward to the notion of this just being one day, hopefully, and not continuous. I remember exactly how easy it is to forget this feeling when I’m not feeling it every single day anymore and I wish myself luck.”

Peace, love, and wellness.

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