Friday, October 22, 2010

He ain’t heavy – he’s my brother.

Let’s just put it out there from the get-go….that title has nothing to do with my post today other than I wanted to use the word heavy.

Heavy is what my life has been lately. That’s not to say bad…but heavy just the same. Which makes my blog posts heavy which doesn’t make for very fun reading.

Yet I write what I feel – and my heart has been heavy – and I can’t apologize for what I feel or what I write or who I am. It’s a package and sometimes you gotta go through the heavy to get to the light….

How I wish sometimes there was one thing wrong that I could pinpoint – so I could say that “this” – whatever this is – is why depression is in me. Then I could fix the “this”. I could eradicate it. Erase it. Wipe out all memory of it. And go on….without depression.

I can go years without a relapse. I can almost forget I even suffer from it. And then I trip. And the trip becomes a fall. And I deny. I throw up a wall or two. My eyes gloss over. My voice becomes small. And literally the next day I can’t wash my hair. I cannot eat. Moving feels like someone asked me to run a marathon without training for it. Nearly impossible right?

I start to care about nothing…which is the opposite of my true character who cares too much.

The only thing I can think about is breathing – to get through the next minute. I imagine depression has huge black grimy hands – squeezed around my heart until I nearly suffocate. I’d rather die than endure another moment with his wretched hands inside me. And I am pissed I can’t control depression, can’t make it stop, can’t curse it away, can’t will it to f*ck off. It remains….like a slow-acting poison.

It is unexplainable. You know you should live but you don’t give a damn if you do.

You know it shouldn’t hurt to open your eyes…but it does. Light is the enemy. Dark is your home.

It’s a helluva place to be. And a helluva place to walk out alive from. I live my life making damn sure I never really go back to that place. I might get close – but I never go back that far. So when days like Wednesday happen and I feel “it”…I react fast. I know I don’t have much time before there’s no going back.

I am reminded it’s real and it owns me and I am at its mercy.

And I fix it the only way I know how.

I write. I work out. I talk to Rambo and Jenny and others who care about me. I let my responsibilities pile up and I give them away – for as long as it takes. I take baths. I up my meds. I pray. I wait. I hang on for dear life. I admit I can’t do it alone. I re-prioritize. I revisit my purpose here.

And I make changes.

Then I fall to my knees and pray to God – that no friend or foe of mine – ever, ever feels this kind of desperation. I vow to God I’ll do anything if he spares my girls from this in their own lives.

And then I get back up. Weaker maybe - yet – stronger for sure. The same maybe – yet – different for sure.

Enough is enough. Too much is too much. I better back the hell up if I ever want to go forward again.

A male co-worker stopped in my office today and within 5 minutes of chatting with me he said, “What the hell is wrong with you? It’s like you have no fight left in you? Who took it from you?”

First I nearly fell off my chair at the shock of a person with a penis being so insightful. Second I told myself, “Self – you better do a better job of pretending cuz you clearly suck at it right now if penis man saw through it.” Third I sat up a little straighter. And I had a little epiphany. A little lecture to myself.  It went something like this.

F*ck you depression. You can’t take my fight. Even if I lose – it’s MY fight. And I want to go down swinging if I go down at all. You don’t belong to me. You belong to Drazil. He needs you. I don’t. My heart has all it can handle without your grimy hands choke-holding it. Go to hell….see how you like it. Me? I’ve already been there and I’m not going back.

F*ck you depression. Just. F*ck. You.

Your heavy is cramping my style.


MrsFatass said...

I love the way you write this. I can't do that the way you can. I am mesmerized. And I am here with you.

Angela said...

You go girl, kick that efffer out.

You must still be inside my head. :)

Gules said...

I picture you in a boxing ring hitting one of those punching bags and screaming "F*ck you depression". That mental image is powerful and you owning it, like you do everything, is
inspiring to others who might be in the same situation.

tessierose said...

I'm pulling for you, knock the shit out of it!

Amanda said...

Marvelously said. And kudos to you for saying it, even though the blog gets heavy, because those of us who are less anonymous can't always spill. And we need to hear it.

Ice Queen said...

You owe no apologies, love. This is your blog, your space, your sandbox. If you apologise for content one more time, I am going to come and hug the stuffing out of you. (I am not a "hugger" so that would be huge, for me... lol)

I admire you so much. You have reserves of strength and grace, determination that many could only dream of possessing. You are taking this by the balls, acting in your own best interest and you will come through it. It may take a while, you might have to fight, kick and claw, write and take a lot of baths but you will get there.

I am here, reading, supporting you and holding you close in my thoughts.

DB said...

Keep writing - get it out - get the 'EFFER gone!

Read said...

I couldn't have described it that well, that was flat out spot on and man am I sorry you can describe it so well. I'm so happy and proud of you for knowing what you need to do and doing it. You'll kick that effers ass, no doubt!!

JourneyBeyondSurvival said...

Pretending = exhausting

Pretending +/- = privacy

Pretending = not always necessary

Pretending = giving up on perfectly pat responses like
1. no. life is just really ___ right now.
2. my sex life is just too demanding right now
3. Oh. sorry explosive man. I just thought you were going potty
4. I just really really miss MrDrazil, Cause JBS stole him and killed him.
5. Rambo made me play war world until 3 am

one foot in front of the other. try to stay away from the high fructose corn syrup. it doesn't help right now. :)

Justawallflower said...

I don't have anything insightful to say, except you will come out even stronger. Sorry you have to keep getting stronger.....thoughts are with you!

Anonymous said...


Barbara said...

Be you.. it will all come around.. hugs

Sandy Lee said...

Yup-F*ck you depression! And maybe one day you will mimic your iMom and actually put a "u" in that word and really tell it off. We're here little one. {{{HUGS}}} (did you feel it?)

Lynda with a Y said...

those are fighting words. good. F U depression.

Genie @ Diet of 51 said...

That's our girl! Picture all of us in the bleachers, wildly waving our rally towels.

That's okay, that's allright, c'mon Girl, FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!!!

Give her an "H", give her a "U", give her a "G", give her an "S"!