A Day In the Life of the Depressed
I was reading through some old writing drafts and I found something that I wrote exactly twelve years ago. I have reread it every couple of years but never felt comfortable posting it. I shared it with my husband a couple of years ago and one of my closest friends and my daughter this week and their love and support gave me the confidence to finally put it out there. Maybe someday I will follow up with my journey over the past few years and what has finally given me relief from the cruel and debilitating illness of depression.
The room seems dark even though the light is on. It is grey and wet and cold outside. I am wearing a pair of wool socks with thick slipper socks over the top, yet my feet are still cold. I have on sweats and a jacket and I reach to turn the heat four degrees higher than it should be.
Kai, who is almost three, is saying something to me with a grin. He is excited and happy. I don’t know what he is saying and I am not sure if it is because he is blabbering or because the numbness I feel — even in my ears — is making it hard to hear him properly.
I smile and give him a hug. The smile is forced, but the hug isn’t. I want him to feel loved even though I don’t feel much but sadness and despair. I want to curl up and cuddle with him and feel his little breath on my cheek, but he wiggles and pushes me away and it frustrates me because I know it will make me feel better if he would just nap with me.
He disappears for a minute and comes back eating a Pop-Tart. I know he must have climbed onto the kitchen counter to get it. He is hungry because it is well past lunchtime. I watch as he plops on the couch and takes big bites, causing crumbs to fall all over the floor and on the arm of the couch. He is watching the same episode of The Brady Bunch for the third time today.
I should tell him to eat his Pop-Tart in the kitchen. No. He shouldn’t even be eating a Pop-Tart. He should be eating a sandwich and carrot sticks at the kitchen table while I engage him in conversation to help him with his speech delay. When we are done we should sit together on the floor and play a game or read a book while he yawns because he is ready for his nap. But he won’t nap this afternoon because I let him fall asleep while he watched a movie this morning. I needed the break even though the sun had only been up for a couple of hours.
When he is done with his Pop-Tart I stare at the crumbs surrounding him and think about how I will probably feel better later and then I will clean it up. I look at the clock and try to figure out if it is possible to get another nap out of him today.
I know the only way I can get warm is to climb in bed with a pillow over my feet and two or three extra blankets piled on top of my quilt. It will still take a long time to warm up and I will probably just get warm when I have to get up again, but it will be worth it for my toes not to ache anymore. Heating up and falling asleep in bed is also the best way I know of relieving the numbness of depression that is so hard to shake.
I think about calling and making an appointment to talk to my doctor, but that would involve talking to the receptionist and I don’t really want to talk to anyone right now. It will also involve leaving the house sometime this week or next and what if I am not feeling better by then? I also know that if I see the doctor I will feel stupid and I will downplay my feelings and I will feel shame and embarrassment, which will make me feel even more depressed. I am also worried I will start crying. I hate to cry in front of people, although it doesn’t take much to make me blubber so I do it fairly often. It is ironic that I am scared that I will start crying in front of my doctor while I talk to him about me being depressed, right? As if it would be more appropriate to show up to his office with a big smile on my face and proclaim, “I am here because I am really sad!”
That is the hardest part about depression. Pretending. Pretending that you are having the time of your life while you dine with a group of girlfriends. Pretending excitement when your best friend asks you to come over to see her new couch. Pretending appreciation when your husband shows affection. Forcing yourself to laugh when your kids tell you a joke-that on a day without depression-would have at least given you a genuine chuckle.
When I am depressed I seek silence, stillness, and warmth. I turn the car radio off as soon as I turn the ignition key. I turn the speakers off on my computer. I put a space heater under my desk to warm my feet…even if it is already 75 degrees in the room. I will take a hot bath (for the second time in a day). I will sit motionless on the couch wrapped in a quilt for as long as I can get away with it. I will convince my kids to have yet another movie night so I can wrap up in blankets and hide in my cocoon while they stare at the tube.
When my husband gets home from work I put that lying smile back on my face, feed my family, help with homework, and fold some laundry. I nag the kids until they get in the shower, brush their teeth, and get in bed. I participate in conversations, I emote the energy that is expected of me, and then I curl up in bed with a book that will help me escape until I fall asleep.
And then I wake up in the morning as late as I can. And I repeat.
