The Symptom That Goes Hand-in-Hand With My Depression
I was just laying in bed with my husband, when I got a sudden feeling of “awakeness.” I told him I wasn’t tired and that I was probably going to go do the dishes. He immediately knew what that meant. “Why aren’t you tired? Are you depressed?”
His questions instantly made me cry. I’m so not willing to admit I am already depressed again. I have spent the past year, being absolutely consumed with it. Sure, I had those “good days” here and there, but most of it was just a mask. I consider myself to be “high-functioning,” so a lot of people don’t even know I’m depressed. I have been depression-free for a little over a week, and I’m just not ready for it to be stripped from me.
But I only experience insomnia when I’m depressed. The two always go hand-in-hand. Never, ever fails.
You see, I saw a Facebook “memory” yesterday about my daddy. My daddy lost his battle to depression 18 months ago. Seeing something happy about him, threw me backwards, with immense force. I busted out the wellness tools, to no avail. My mask game was so strong, I even had myself convinced that it wasn’t going to happen. It’s most definitely happened. I successfully fought it off yesterday and most of today, but now, I’m sinking — fast.
I stayed in bed, in a state of denial. I impatiently waited for my husband to fall asleep, so I could go cry alone. He held me and said all the right things, but that solo crying time is so important for me. That is when all the depression magic happens. That ugly cry that soothes my soul. That much needed breakdown, after holding it together for almost two whole days.
A week of actual happiness and having the will to live, is not nearly long enough. Especially when you’ve just returned from an extended stay in the “Darkness Inn and Suites.” I’m desperately grasping at the rim, trying not to fall back into that black hole. The black hole that will eventually turn into poor hygiene and questioning my existence. I hate this, but it’s all I know anymore. I do not want to go back to that yet. It’s just too soon.
I’m about to wash my dishes, and think of nothing but those dishes. The sponge will be my saving grace and I will forget my brain is an asshole, if only for a little while. Perhaps a nice zoning out session will snap me out of this. I will eventually find my sleep and get some rest.
Tomorrow is fresh. Tomorrow will be better. I hope.
If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or text “START” to 741-741.
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Thinkstock photo via openeyed11.