I’m fighting off a ’bout of depression. I didn’t realize it until halfway through the week when I became aware of the symptoms and the thoughts that have been occupying my mind. I am absolutely lethargic, I feel no need to get out of bed, and I don’t want to work. Deep inside, I want to work. I want to raise my shirt sleeves and get my hands dirty, but the hours turn to days, and all I’ve done the past week was lie in bed and talked about getting work done.
I sleep late and I sleep in — and I’m already in bed and ready to sleep by midnight but I don’t drift to sleep. Very little brings me joy and I am not inspired to create like I usually am.
I’ve been exercising at home, at least for half an hour, just to get back into some semblance of physical strength and I thought the endorphins would do me good but no dice. I figured this might have something to do with having quit smoking. I make a run for it and leave the house to buy a single cigarette in a corner store when it gets to me, but I’ve pretty much been clean for — maybe — two weeks now, pushing three.
I’m wondering if this part of the withdrawals syndrome. This unbelievable listlessness. I am uninterested in everything and I don’t want to see anyone and I don’t want to work and I’m pissed off at the slightest little things.
I wish I had my own space again. A place of my own that I can just disappear for a few days and just not have to deal with little things. I find myself distant from my usual remedies and from my usual comforts that get me through these tough days.
I know this is probably nothing compared to what people with real medical problems have to deal with but it’s very debilitating for me. This happens once a year — sometimes it hits once every two years — and when it happens, I knew what to do and I had gotten so much better at handling it when it came around.
Now I just feel so powerless and disempowered here. I’m far away from my the things I used to hold on to when these bouts happened.
I can ride this. I just need to be strong. I just need to get through it. Hopefully, I don’t go back to smoking. Hopefully, this ends soon. Because there’s no way I’m getting medication for my mental state. No more pills unless it’s life or death and this is not life and death. This is will power. This is about endurance. This is about discipline and fortitude.
No more chemicals if I can help it. I’ve been able to handle even worse depression than this without the help of any sort of chemical adjustments. Back then, I had definite reasons to be depressed. Now I just have roadblocks. I have obstacles. Nothing I can’t handle.
This is probably just withdrawals. This is just the usual down spin. I’ll be fine. I’ll be perfectly fine.