They say when you're going through hell, keep going. I am holding onto that this week. In so many ways, I am fortunate, and I am grateful. However, it is hard to feel my feelings these days, especially the positive ones. This joylessness is a part of depression that is particularly hard to understand, I think.
I have trouble understanding it, despite having had this illness on and off for over a quarter century. It goes hand in hand with a pervasive sense of irritability. I could not even get along with my sister, who came to visit from Florida over the holidays. We ended up having a big fight. I am hormonal and depressed. She is stressed out. It was a powder keg.
Lately, I spend most of my time in bed because I feel profound despair. If you don't understand, that's okay because neither do I. I am so much at my wit's end that I made an appointment with the psychiatrist. I feel like when it comes to mental health, we are living in the dark ages and going to my psychiatrist is like going for an old-fashioned blood-letting. However, if I lived in the dark ages and I was very sick, I guess I would submit to the leeches and blood-letting. What else can you do?
I know what will help me. I need to leave this city, in which it is winter half the year. I need to find a place where there is easy access to a swimming pool and where there is an ocean. It might sound decadent, but the fresh air and exercise will save me from this pit.
I can't even go out in this frigid air. I get asthma and literally choke on the cold winter air. I was born here, but somehow not meant to live here. I do not thrive here.
I still feel depression in other locations, but I have more of a hope of recovery. Anyhow, for now, it is a moot point. My father is having open heart surgery in January or February. I am his only relative in town. There is no way I can leave.
My (adult) daughter said she thought I ought to leave anyhow because I am in such bad shape. She said she thought Dad would understand. I said I couldn't leave him to face the terror of open heart surgery alone. It's like war. I might be walking wounded, but I still cannot leave a man on the field. I have to try to carry him out if I can.
However, it is a terrible struggle. The next six months will be very challenging, and I am not sure how to survive them. Being depressed is difficult. Being around my father is difficult. Being around my father while he is seriously ill and I am depressed? I don't know how I will manage it.
It's New Year's Day and I want to say something positive, but I just feel despair. I feel as though I am drowning.
Assuming my father's surgery goes well and he recovers well, I hope to travel this fall. It seems a long time to wait. I feel as though I have to hold my breath until then.
I am hoping these feelings are temporary. This is what I always tell people when they feel depressed: everything feels hopeless and it feels like the hopelessness is forever, but that is just a feeling. The truth is depression comes and goes. It ebbs and flows. The hopelessness feels all-consuming, but, in a way, it is not real.
Note: There is now a Part 2 to this post, which you can find here.