It’s currently snowing heavily for the first time in what seems like the entirety of the winter months. I’m currently silently celebrating the fact I have no reason to step outside today in this mess and I can just sit here in my apartment and do whatever it is I please. These are actually dangerous times for me because it allows me to sit and ruminate on the past, present, and future and usually it turns into my attempting to avoid some sort of depressive pity party. I’m built to be alone a lot of the time but some days I just can’t take the silence and sitcom reruns playing constantly on my TV don’t seem to reach past the momentary lapses in lows when they actually elicit a laugh from inside me. Laughter, I’ve found, is one of the few things that can save me on these kinds of days.
Lately, I’ve been crawling out my own flesh trying to find some sort of feeling of being centered; I want to feel like I belong somewhere but I have not had much luck. I spend my days at work and my nights at home doing whatever I can to pass the time. I want to peel my skin from my body because I don’t even feel comfortable in it anymore. I don’t want to fit in but I don’t want to be a complete outlier either. And I used to feel so likable. I don’t know what happened.
Lately, it’s been a consistent battle between depression and anhedonia. Nothing really makes me feel accomplished or happy. Work feels like it’s sucking the life from me. Half the time I don’t have anything to do even when I ask for work to do. Most would ask, “Who does that?”. But between depression and something to keep me occupied, I would rather have work to keep my mind off the lows than just sit there staring off into space letting my mind wander into places I wish it would stay out of or places I thought I had escaped for good. There are times where i still relive all the moments that hurt me so much the last few years. I have to shake these daydreams from my head like a dog shaking water from its back and try to focus on something else. Some days it works, other days it just puts me right back where I was.
When I get home there’s not much for me. Sure, I’ve been preparing for the LSAT and hoping I get accepted to one of the two schools I applied for in California. But it’s not exciting to me. Nothing is exciting to me. So, I kill time with video games and watching whatever I can find that interests me on Netflix. I hate the ruts I hit in the winter. Even with added medication I don’t escape the lows and, at best, I feel nothing at all. My therapist says I should start exercising again. My willpower has not been the strongest. I haven’t wanted to do anything for months now. I haven’t gone grocery shopping since I don’t know when and there are days when I can barely get myself out of bed to go to work. I’ve been an hour late a couple times the last few weeks because I just don’t want to get up.
I don’t care what anyone says. Happiness is not a choice or I would have chosen it a long time ago and I wouldn’t be writing this kind of stuff. Being depressed is not a choice either and getting out of it is not an act of will. They are all variables in brain chemistry and almost seemingly random. So, don’t feed me bubbles, rainbow, and sunshine and keep the positive attitude crap away from me. I know what it’s like to be miserable with no end in sight and you haven’t even seen the surface of the deep.
Is it too much to ask to want to be treated like I wasn’t depressed?