Depression and Hope

Today is a difficult day. I woke up cranky with a buzzing in my head signalling my oncoming depression. It has been threatening to over take me for quite a while, but I have been good at keeping it at bay and not letting it really show to anyine else except my husband and a few close friends. I do a really good job at masking this side of me, but it is always underneath my skin. It is like an insatiable itch. Sure, you scratch it and it feels a little better, but then it either comes back stronger or you've scratched so hard you've broken skin. Today, I am close to breaking skin.

I was put on temporary furlough for the last few months. That's just a nice way of saying "We don't have any money, you're terminated. But when we get soem, you're back!" Now, this wasn't a decision by some higher up. No. It was a decision made out of necessity, and since, at the time, I was the Program Manager, I was the one that had to sign the termination paperwork.

I have taken all of this in stride. I am writing, cooking, visiting friends. At times, I am having a jolly good time. But there are those days that are dark. The ones that creep up after rejection after rejection. The kind of day that even a cup of excellent coffee can't lift. These are the days I fear because these are the days that are too familiar. They are the old friend visiting that you hoped you'd never see again. And they trap you in a state of spinning, self-critique, and despair. You remmebr the feeling of immobility, and you just hope it won't result in an inability to get out of bed because that is not what you need. So you do what you can and get out of the house only to find yourself walking in circles, opening your front door, and laying back down on your bed or turning on People's Court.

It's not like any of this really matters in the grand scheme of things because I have been doing things and have been making progress towards my goals, and there are so many other, larger problems in the world. In fact, it feels like I am whining. But I can't shake this feeling of underaccomplishment, lonesomeness (even with all these people sitting near me at the cafe), and tiredness. It habgs like fog and only a good gust of cold ocean air will move it along.

Maybe I am exaggerating. Maybe it isn't as bad as I think it is at this moment. My logic tells me this feeling is useless and unproductivr. History tells me it will pass; it always does. But logic and history are tiny forces in comparison to emotion and mental health. They are the banks of the river worn away by the rushing water, and I am a piece of debris being carried downstream.

Like I said, I have made progress; I am reaching goals. I am rehired (partly). I am taking care of my taxes. I am saving money even though I make crap. (How the hell did that happen?) I am writing at least weekly. I am cooking and actually writing down recipes. I am supporting others endeavors. I am slowing down. I am also locked in loops of obsessive Bejeweled Blitz, watching television, and thinking, thinking, thinking.

I know deeply and wholeheartedly that action and creation will pull me out of thede loops, will scratch and relieve my itch, will anchor me as the river swirls around me. Yet, I sit on my olive couch and flip channels until I land on The Real Housewives of Atlanta with my open computer on my lap plugged in to Facebook and Twitter waiting for something I can respond to. I don't turn off the television or close the Mac and pick up a pen and notebook. I don't curl up on my bed with a good book. I don't call a friend just to chat. These are the moments I hate. And with these moments come self-loathing until I go to bed with thoughts of all the other things I could have fone swimming in my brain keeping me awake.

As I sit at Coffee Bar writing this piece, I find my spirits somewhat lifting. I am doing something to pukk me out of my funk and despair. I find myself, once again, amazed at the power of voice - the power of expressing personal thoughts and emotions normally deemed petty or unacceptable. And I find myself transforming, finding hope. I am releasing the tension of depression. Now, I just need to keep this hope front and center for the rest of today. I must also be okay in my loop. For without it, I wouldn't have written this piece.