It’s cold and dark. Yes, I know sounds like December except yesterday it was 70 degrees and beautiful.
Virginia has some weird weather. 70, then 30, by Thursday it is supposed to be in the upper 60s again. I hate the back and forth.
What I hate the most about December though is the darkness. I hate how little daylight we have. Having fought depression for the vast majority of my adult, and teenage, life going into the dark like this makes it easier for the velvety blackness to cover me again.
Back when I was in my second year of college I wrote a poem for the school literary magazine that spoke of depression in typical 20 year old metaphors. It was true though. The best way to describe my form of depression is like crawling into a deep dark hole.
And pulling a huge heavy light conquering curtain over me.
The curtain blocks out not just light, but joy and hope and the ability to bring myself to get up off the couch and do anything other than just exist. This has been a tough year, with my injury, the subsequent hospital and rehab stay, getting hit by a car, which if I don’t write about someone holler at me, and all of that.
The first bad bout hit me in spring this year. It lasted a couple months before something snapped chemically and I felt better for a couple months.
Now, as the light dies, I can feel it coming back on me. The hole is getting deeper, the curtain is darker, heavier, just waiting for me to let it cover me, again.
I’m trying. Lord knows, I am trying to fight it back. I open the curtains during the day, let the light in on my skin to try and help it. When it is warm enough I go outside and sit in the sun.
As the light dies and we approach the shortest day of the year it gets more and more difficult.
Right now, I have a multitude of things I should be doing. I cann0t make myself do them. The weight of the depression is upon me.
This doesn’t stop things from needing to be done. I have to shower. Clothes need to be washed, dishes, as well. The housework needs to be done (okay, i’m pretty damn limited on that right now due to my stupid injury and surgery.)
December 2nd and not a decoration is up anywhere in the house.
The Christmas lights help. The sparkling garlands that reflect those lights around the room more make it just a little bit easier to heave my body up and move. Light helps.
I’m fighting as hard as my brain chemistry allows. I’ve been off of the antidepressants for 18 or more months. Maybe it is time to ask for help.
Maybe, just maybe, I should call the doctor and ask for those stupid purple pills that steal my words, but allow me to feel some sort of joy.
I’ll try tomorrow.
If it doesn’t work, I’ll try again the next day. Somehow, I’ll force myself past the ennui to help myself care about myself.
I can do this.
Breathe in. Breathe out.