What must it be like


Anyone else checking the time and feeling bummed out when there are just so many hours left in the day? I feel this way a lot during the lock down (covid-19). Like I’m dreading being awake. Being alive. I want to check out and go to sleep, or fall into the couch and watch TV/movies. I just want to shut off. All. The. Time. Is this how everyone is feeling? I assume so. Or maybe these are just the thoughts of someone who is depressed. Sometimes I can’t tell when I’m depressed because I’m so used to it. And it feels so different than it used to since I started taking meds. I wonder if it’ll stay this way.



What must it be like for my daughter to live in my depression? Depression is different lately. Sometimes I can’t really tell, because the pain in my chest doesn’t show up. But then I get out of bed around 11AM, all the shades are closed, the kitchen is a mess, it’s dark. So dark.

She lives in this space. This dark room with a missing parent left to fend for herself. I remember these days as a kid too. My mom, locked in her room, asleep, all day long. Crying sometimes. 

I don’t want to kill myself anymore. I don’t feel heavy. But the action script is still there, telling me what to do. So I sleep. I eat. I don’t eat. I am still. I am quiet. I am numb.



Most days I wake up in a pretty good mood, today being one of them. But then the hours stack up, it’s afternoon, and I crash. That’s when I nap, or have a drink, or smoke. Anything I can do to numb to make it to bedtime. And then, we start all over again. How many times am I going to let my daughter down?

Today I lay on the bed while she brushes me hair. Silent, still, because I can’t move. She talks to me, and I listen. She brushes and plays and I wonder if she knows I’m sad. What does she make of it if she does? On these days she’s sweet, and independent. Almost as if she knows I can’t handle any more than that. Which I can’t, I feel exhausted.

I try to make up for it on these days. I do it with sweet bedtime kisses and back rubs. By reading a story before bed. Ordering her favorite meal for dinner. Crawling in to her bed after we already said goodnight, just for a few extra minutes of cuddles.

Tomorrow I’ll try again. The next day I’ll try again. Every day after that I’ll keep trying – because she deserves someone who doesn’t give up.

I think I need to just accept that some days, depression will win. Other days, I will win. And that’s the game of life.

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