Sometimes I get depressed. I go through seasons where I’m unstoppable and then I hit valleys where I’m apathetic and filled with hopelessness. Because my family is no stranger to mental illness, this terrifies me.
I manage to wake up every day and go about my business, but the passion I have for life lives so far down I can barely access it. The things I love seem pointless. Today was a particularly bad day, coupled with a loss in our family.
I left work early, numb to everything. I came home, put on my pajamas and got into bed. I didn’t want to eat, but I did. I didn’t want to watch TV, but I did. I didn’t want to sleep, but I did. This is what happens. It’s like I lose my appetite for everything.
Eventually I reemerge just as bright as ever, but until then I deal with the constant feelings of inadequacy. Like I’ll never be a good writer or good at makeup or get my eating under control. I know what I need to do to get better but I can’t, like there’s a block or something.
Tonight I watched Brooklyn, practiced doing my makeup and listened to some music and felt more like myself. Sometimes it’s little things like this that remind me life is still beautiful.
Plus it’s snowing and I have a new coat. I love new seasons and the opportunities presented. I have hope for the good things that will happen in my life. I know God is in control.
I can get through this. I can and I will.