My depression, that is.
Or that’s the only explanation I have for the way I’ve been feeling.
Ever since I got back from Flipside I’ve been stressed and anxious. There was so much on my to-do list and not the time or energy to do it.
Now I just don’t *want* to.
Not wanting to do things I normally would is never a good sign.
Some of the things on that to-do list were even fun things like sewing. Or something like organizing my room which can at times be pleasant, as it clears the clutter from my brain in the process.
I’ve been increasingly fatigued, even when I’ve had enough sleep.
My boss had to tell me to smile yesterday.
There’s a void in my chest and I don’t know what will fill it.
Not being able to imagine what might make me happy is not a good thing.
This isn’t the sobbing, sleepless, angsty depression of my old job.
This is the tired, weighted, never pull the covers off your face again depression. The depression where even feeling sad takes too much effort.
Logically, I *should* be happy. I have a loving significant other, I like my job. I am working a bit more than I’d like and have less money than I’d like, but nothing that’s happened I can think of to set this off. I don’t have many friends, but there’s reason to hope a few social opportunities will develop this summer.
Or maybe I’m thinking about this all wrong. Maybe depression isn’t a cause-effect relationship at all. Maybe depression just creeps in like weeds in a garden if you’re not ever vigilant.
I guess I haven’t been vigilant.
I thought changing jobs would “fix” things. Fix me.
I thought if I liked what I was doing, I’d like myself again and everything else would go away.
Perhaps it’s this family stuff – not talking to my parents and knowing my mother is having knee surgery this week but I don’t know how to comfort her.
Because I don’t have room for everything in my life to be about her right now.
I don’t know what’s missing.
But what really scares me is the thought that nothing is.
The thought that no matter what I do, no matter how many positive changes I make in my life, I will never be happy.
Is that depression lying to me or is it real?
Is it possible that being someone who struggles with depression means that I might never be happy?
I just wish I wasn’t so tired.
I wish I felt excited about anything.
I keep focusing on everything negative in my life instead of the positive things I have going for me.
I thought I was doing better.
Clearly I’m not.