An old post I found in my google drive. It feels good to not be depressed, but I keep the memory close by.

May 2019:

I was ready to move on from the month of May. There are still 5 days left, but I’m up and moving around in the kitchen, I have to keep the momentum going. I clean, sweep, cook, now it’s time to change the calendar. I take it off the wall and flip the page to June. There it reads something beautiful about a woman, a lovely picture to compliment. Paused, I know I don’t deserve this picture at this moment. This message isn’t meant for this version of myself. Slowly, I flip the page back down covering the month of June as it should be. Hopefully, later this week I won’t be drunk or feel depressed. I will have another opportunity to flip from May to June and re-read the page I get to look at for the next thirty days. At this moment, I hope I feel peace or inspiration. Really anything other than what I feel now. 

Being depressed is what I would imagine death might feel like. Only, without fear. When I feel depressed my chest is tight, I feel sad but numb at the same time. I just can’t care or feel, and I am so sorry to all the people I hurt or push away in these moments. Please know I too am pushing myself away. I can’t allow you to see me in this place, because when you ask me what’s wrong I can’t answer. When you try to hold a conversation I can barely keep up, you see I am exhausted. From what? I’m not sure. I guess from this disease that pulls me into an arena where I am not myself. This disease encourages me to bounce back and forth between two beings, one that is love and one that is loathe. I promise, I don’t know this person. But somehow in the depths of darkness I feel home. Probably because I’ve been here before. The comfort of this knowing keeps me on my knees, unwilling to try and stand up. I can’t stand up. I can’t get better. See, that’s what my brain says when I’m depressed. And you know, sometimes I believe it.

But, I will tell you that’s a lie. I will always get back up. Today, I am here. I will probably be here tomorrow and I know I will come back to this home again in my future. But, this can’t be my forever. Right?