My particular type of depression is called dysthymia. It’s not an extended period that incapacitate me. My depression is just always there.
That’s how I convinced myself for so long that it wasn’t depression at all. It didn’t look like it does on TV. I could still go to work. I even managed to finish my bachelor’s degree.
This past week was even what I might call good. We’ve had some unprecedented weather here. Sunshine enough that I’ve been wearing my blazer instead of my pea coat. I reorganised my shelves. I tidied my main room. I let go of a lot of physical stuff.
Perhaps that’s why I’ve had dishes in the sink for three days now. Perhaps that’s why I’m second guessing every plan I make for the future.
I’m starting this year with a lot of deliberate changes, and while they felt good then, they’re sitting heavily with me now. Not regret, but reality.
I suspect my quick-change moods are a symptom of my depression. Just as my down feelings never last long enough to seriously disrupt my life, neither do my up feelings last long enough to remind me to keep trying.
Depression isn’t feeling sad; it’s feeling nothing.
I want this year to be different. I don’t feel ready yet, but I hold onto the hope that I will.