Whether I choose to admit it or not, I battle clinical depression. There doesn't seem to be a way I can escape it. Most days I am fine. I get up, put on my makeup, get dressed, and drive along 7th East to work. I come home, eat something for dinner, go shopping, go to the Lloyds, read my scriptures, watch a movie etc. Then I get up and do it all over again.
Every once in awhile, the depression crushes me and I am paralyzed. On these days I can't get out of bed. The littlest task, like brushing my teeth, seems like lifting a 200 lb weight. I mostly sleep all day so it can be tomorrow. Today is hell but tomorrow will be fine. I hate that this cycle impedes my life. I hate that I have to deal with depression at all. However, I've learned it's better to accept it and deal with it, than pretend it's not there. I am in therapy--again. It's been three years since the last time. Every Monday at 1:00 pm I attempt to find middle ground. I don't want to be there, but I also know I need to be there. That's why I go.
People who don't have depression can't understand what it's really like and that's ok--I don't expect them to. I'm not special or crazy...depression is simply my reality. It's not a matter of "sucking it up"---if it was, I'd never let myself become paralyzed.
Every day is a balancing act. I've lived as turbo and I've been alive in a dark whole. Both of those people are behind me now. Scar tissue remains. I'm stuck here trying to find the middle, the balance between versions of profitable insanity. I know how to say no, but sometimes I say "no" when I could say "yes". I am afraid of who I've been. I want equilibrium---the happy medium. That's why I go to therapy, because I believe my life scale can be tipped. That I don't always have to live in extremes. That I can live a better life.
I know things I didn't ask to learn. Dreams are hollow. I acknowledge truth and despise failures. I am different, but the same. Maybe I'm jaded or maybe I'm a realist. I push away some things I want most. I realize I'm not superhuman, but sometimes--subconsciously--I still think I should be. Days like today are my attempt at finding balance. Owning the fact that I am flawed, that I experience failure, that I am weak. These days are the definition of a paradox--freeing and binding. I don't want to be turbo. I don't want to be the dark hole. I can't look backwards and forwards at the same time. So I stare straight down. I remove myself from life for a day and wait for tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll try to start the day like I'm already in the middle of a conversation.