It’s a funny thing, this strange struggle through grey fog, and not being capable of bright and happy.
Firstly, I’ve never seen myself as suffering from depression as such. Oh, I’ve been depressed for sure, and I guess I’ve been on meds at one point in my life. But life is hard and sometimes that happens to us, right?
THen again, I don’t suffer from dyslexia either, but I do have this weird hand-eye-brain coordination thing which litters my typing with spell-bombs and makes by unchecked text somewhat dangerous to read. So, it kind of looks to others like I have a level of dyslexia, even if I don’t think I do.
I think that’s what my go-to mental state is like, too. It’s not depression, because I refuse to do that. I deny it. It’s some other thing. A state of apathy and non-communication with friends, of listlessness and low battery-powered anger at my own pathetic inability to get things done. A frustration that I can’t be the me that I want to be all the time.
Of course, I spent a good part of my life not being ‘me’ as such, not even knowing for a long, long time what ‘me’ really meant. Give it long enough and that kind of constant frustration wears into your brain. It becomes a pattern, a pair of rails that your personality train has to run on. It makes you want to hide.
So all this rambling excuse is really just a plea to my friends not to give up on me. I may be in a rut, in an emotional hole with a lost light switch, but part of me is always climbing and never stopping. You know I never really stop, and I don’t know how to. I will get out, insofar as I ever can. And I’ll be properly back with you all soon.
I will.
x
