Most would be saying “TGIF” to themselves and colleagues and co-workers today after a long and tedious work week. Not I, I haven’t been to work in 3 weeks. It still feels weird not getting up in the morning and dragging myself into the office to start my coffee, open emails, check voicemails and begin the task of servicing 85+ families who receive autistic support services. I took a career change after being let go from my job in the legal field; when the opportunity presented itself to go into some type of human services job I jumped at it believing I could make a difference. The reality is no matter where you go; profit or non profit organization there are still politics that come into play. Without doubt it’s those very politics that dull the shine of human services work a little bit a time. I’m grateful for my job without any question; but it wasn’t doing me any good in the state of mind I’ve been in.
Today I return to therapy after missing a week due to the miscarriage surgical procedure. I bide my time quietly knowing that there will be no way to escape talking about this with her today. I don’t know what it is but I hate to see people feel sorry for me. I hate to see people purse their lips and heave their sighs and show me those caring eyes as if they can feel and see my pain. She’s a soft spoken older white woman. I know that outside of that office she and I would never collide in the real world. It feels strange sometimes trusting a complete stranger to be my closest confidant, but I suppose it’s safer that way. I think I’m more annoyed by how shockingly surprised my physicians always are at my ability to understand the medical terminology and the ease with which I discuss my mental health. But who better than a person who’s struggled with depression for 20 years to be able to fluently discuss it’s effects?
Later this evening I have 2 different events to attend. One is for a colleague who was recently diagnosed with cancer. His 30 birthday literally just passed about 4 days ago. Talk about plot twist. Although this colleague and I are only newly acquainted, he’s a warm soul, with a kind spirit and it feels awful to watch him endure it but he presents an image of all strength. If he can get himself up and out to socialize with the world during a cancer battle; I should be able to show up and support despite my struggle. The second event in the evening is an album release party for an artist that I manage. I suppose it’s not fair to call him just an artist though; he is a dear friend. He’s one of those friends that thru the most uncanny of circumstances a friendship blossomed. I was so heavily involved in the making of this project it seems a bit selfish not to show up simply because my attitude needs an adjustment and my blues have been so heavy these days.
There’s certainly an amount of anxiety that comes with leaving the house for me. Normally I’m ok, but in the throes of an active low episode; getting a shower can induce a panic attack. But I’ve challenged myself and I’m determined to follow thru with the challenge. I can’t hide in isolation forever; it’s one of the worst things a depressed person can do. However, it’s my go to for coping for as long as I can remember. It’s the first time in my life I’m actively trying to combat it. Usually, I just succumb to that lonely feeling; and often times don’t resurface until sunshine and warm weather is well in effect.
I feel like this year’s round of depression has been far more exhausting and draining than it has been in a long time. The last time it was even remotely close to being this bad I found myself without sleep for 2 weeks and finally allowed myself to be admitted to the psychiatric unit of the hospital 2 years ago. I wish to not revisit that again. Nothing made me feel crazier than being in a ward of the hospital where everyone was crazy. And maybe crazy is not the politically correct word; people who were just as mentally and behaviorally challenged as me and more. The difference is…in there…there’s no separation and divide from “you” and “them”. You are them. I am no better than Agatha who walked the halls screaming “Blood of Christ” and I’m no better than Miguel the portly Mexican who didn’t talk but smiled a weird smile and shuffled the halls in hospital issued socks. Next to being in a shelter; that hospital stay was probably the most awakening stay I’d ever had anywhere.
I say all this to say nothing. Just reflecting over my cup of coffee whilst doing laundry. I pray today be a better day than yesterday. I pray that today I’m able to accomplish something that maybe I couldn’t just two days ago. If I actually make it out of the house tonight to connect with friends I’ll take that as an accomplishment. The fact that I’ve written today is a small accomplishment in itself being that my goal has been to pen daily no matter what it is I write.
Thanking God for the small favors.