Sunday, December 15, 2013

The Beast

Depression can be a tricky beast. Right now, it's got me in its clutches. I didn't realize until today that I was there.  Deep into a full blown depression. It was slow and insidious. Wending its way into the very heart and soul of me. Now I feel trapped. A captive of my own design. I find myself sinking deeper and deeper with no real desire to even try to help myself.

I don't like this.  Usually I can work out how I got here, and how I can get out. It's as if, slowly, my passion for reading, writing, my spiritual practice, and my life in general, has faded. I see what my friends and acquaintances are doing with their lives, and for some reason I feel stuck.  Mired in the muck of my own self doubt, as everyone around goes merrily forward with purpose.

Bit by bit my failures mock me.  They seem to be big glaring cock ups that overshadow any good I've done.  All of my decisions are suspect.  I second guess myself, and have lost trust in my own intellect and intuition.  It's as if I've regressed 6+ years, and this is very disconcerting.  I didn't like the person I was then, and I don't much care for them now.  I find that I've spent more time trying to bury or forget that other life, that it's specter has somehow crept into my every day current life.  Of course these aren't quite so apparent as the feeling that I'm losing my connection with my daughter. 

This burdens my heart so much, that the weight leaves me practically immobile. She runs off to dad or the roommate, and tells me I'm not her friend. It's hard not to take it personally. I know she's only three, and is at a most capricious stage, and yet...  Of course, this also bleeds into one other relationship.  The ever widening gulf between my husband and I.  As the days go by, we fight more and more.  Little skirmishes, highlighted by one or two full scale battles.  It brings to mind all the imperfections of the relationship, as well as the all the baggage of my past life.  The weight of it all is crushing me.

I thought it would be different this time around.  It's not, really.  I'm caretaker to everyone.  It's only after letting things go, that anything gets done.  The state of the house reflects my mental state.  Chaos. Doing the same thing every day, with little to no recognition makes one, anyone, feel used and taken for granted. Pretty words only go so far.  As does the fact that decompression after work is the purview of the man of the house.  Though, I give myself no time to go from one thing to another, but only because things need to be done.  Dinner needs to be made, toddler played with, and bedtimes to meet.  And when all is said and done, still again, I am called upon to sit and watch TV, when all I want to do is read or write.  To do for myself.  But this is not to be.  Feelings get hurt, and sacrifices must be made.  It's my past life all over again.

I'm losing me. And because I'm slowly succumbing to the drowning feeling, I find myself escaping in little ways.  I can't run away as before.  I have too much that keeps me here, so I create a place I can go to that acts as a shield.  A solace for my soul.  Movies.  Books.  This. Small escapes that allow me to maintain my grip on my fragile sanity.

I don't see a way out any time soon.  Just as it took months to get here, it will take a while to find my way back out.  Until then, I must act the part.  Only for this weekend did I let myself become submerged. Tomorrow, though, is a new week.  I need to be present enough to function and work. To be mom, wife, and diligent employee.  I need to keep moving forward no matter how difficult the march.  Eventually I'll make my way out of this.  For now, I'll take it one day at a time. Praying I don't fall any further, or get lost, and when I can, figure out what got me here so I can learn and be more vigilant the next time.

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