Life is Depressing and Depression is Life

No, I guess it's not as bad as that, but it has been plenty bad lately. I have felt so overwhelmed, so alone, so utterly useless in the world.

So very depressed.

So depressed that I was once again contemplating suicide.

No, I won't do it. If anything, I'm really good at figuring out how bad "it" really is and I manage to get myself to someone who can help before something horrible happens. But mostly I think how wonderful it would be if I wasn't alive any more.

No more fears, no more worries, no more anger, no more bitterness. No more feeling useless.

Ah, sounds like a nice change.

However, I'm here and I'm stuck here for a while so I'm trying to make the best of it.

I came to an important realization last night as I was trying to drift off to sleep. Now, first you need to understand how yesterday went. Lately I've been so depressed that I haven't wanted to get out of bed. Literally. Will not get out of bed. I don't feel like eating and when I do eat, it's not good food that's good for me. So yesterday was one of those days where the world seemed to be circling around me, pulling me into its negativity vortex. I didn't get out of bed. All day. Well, most of the day. I slept something like twelve hours, before I went to bed in the evening again. I was so sad and miserable and utterly utterly alone.

So I'm trying to go to sleep because I am tired, surprisingly enough, and I don't want to warp my sleep/wake cycle again. Then I had a thought. Yesterday was 12/7. This was important, not only because it is Pearl Harbor Day (thanks all you veterans!) but because it is close to 12/10. 12/10 is the day where no happiness escapes. 12/10 is the gloomiest day of the year. And the lead up to 12/10 is almost always difficult as well.

I can't tell you how relieved I was to discover that! Sometimes it just takes knowing that there is a real reason that you're depressed, and not just having a serious brain chemical deficiency period (which is bad enough, I assure you).

In 1994, I miscarried a baby. He was due 12/10.

Even when I don't consciously remember what day it is, somehow, my body and my mind remember that little one. I get a bit sad around the day in May when I lost him, but 12/10 almost always sinks me. Whether I recall its significance or not.

Today was a better day. I graded a whole bunch of exams and papers I have to return tomorrow. It was beautiful and sunny all day. I made something yummy for supper. I kept my dying cat alive another day. It was a better day, thanks be to God!

Tomorrow may be another difficult day, but today was good enough. I'm still here.