The Aftermath of Depression
When I said “could 2021 get any worse?” it was NOT a challenge. As you’ve probably already gathered from the other stuff I’ve written here, 2021 has brutally beaten me with rapid cycling laundromat-style back-to-back nightmare of cyclothymic/bipolar episodes. I’m not going to go back over that because today I feel. The sentence ends there because I haven’t felt in months, aside from the occasional burst of grief.
I woke up feeling and the sun was shining and a tiny thing inside of me wanted to hope and believe in something but my brain hadn’t yet let go of the need to remind me that I would be better off dead. What a weird in-between. It’s like you a foot in two parallel worlds, and both suddenly fake.
I’ve been crying a lot this year. Nearly every week, if not most days. But I feel I cried a lot of empty tears. They would roll down my cheeks at any given moment, almost unexpectedly. I don’t ever think I’ve had tears dribbling down my chin or my nose without reason until this year. When I say they were empty tears, I mean that I simply felt sad that life was passing me by and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t living. And so when I felt this morning I started crying. It was grief, which apparently is a sign of recovery from depression. The past few days have been a lot of quick oscillations between feeling ok and wanting to cry myself to sleep.
If anyone is also in this horrible in-between, coming out of depression without having found the energy to engage in the world, or overwhelmed by the sadness of having lost a lot of things recently, or haunted by the fear of relapsing back into depression, I feel you.( Since I can feel now.)
I’m also trying to recover my memories from the blur that these past months have been. It’s awful to lose sight of the past when you are losing sight of the future.
It has never been clearer before that my depression has had me lying to myself. I kept reading about depression, knew I was experiencing symptoms, but still wouldn’t believe there wasn’t something wrong with me. I knew I was ill, but I couldn’t snap out of it, of course. It hasn’t even left me yet, but here and there the illusion peels and underneath there is hope. I haven’t quite gotten there yet, but I think it’s not too far off. I can feel its warmth close to the touch.