Today I’m recovering from yesterday, which was a Bad Day. I’m ok, I’ve survived the worst of it. I haven’t showered yet, I haven’t brushed my teeth. I haven’t gotten out of my pajamas. I haven’t done much yet.
But, I did get out of bed. I did eat breakfast. I did take my meds. I did drink my coffee.
Today I’m writing again. In a little while, I’ll go upstairs and shower. I’ll brush my teeth. I’ll dress. I’ll put on deodorant. I might even wear shoes at some point today. I’ll hang out with the kids today and show them that I can Mom better.
Today. I’m gonna make it to the grocery store today. We’re out of milk, and lunch meat for the kids, and I have no idea what dinner will be, since we’re completely out of things to make dinner with. Maybe today I’ll even make it to the gym. Or, at least maybe go for a walk with the kids and the dogs. Today, I might.
Yesterday was rough. I felt like a fish out of water, gasping and not knowing anything about my surroundings. I felt like air was water, and water was air. Like I wasn’t breathing. Like everything I’d taken for granted was suddenly and inexplicably turned into something Else. Yesterday was a dark cave of blindness and icky cave-dwelling creepy crawlies that invaded my thoughts and covered everything in pitch black lies.
Depression lies. Brain weasels. It’s ok to not be ok. Hang in there. Cliches that are true but feel like they can’t be true when they’re rehearsed in a dark place. When everything feels like smoke and mirrors, it’s impossible to tell what to believe. Depression takes quick advantage of that. It’s ironic that what saves me from Depression is Anxiety. Anxiety over what would happen if I did give in to Depressions seductive persuasions.
Depression whispers in sly, confident tones that everyone is worthy, just by virtue of existence, everyone. Everyone except you. Everyone is right, and you just need to trust them, and not believe in your own perspective. Depression is seductive. There’s something very persuasive about having your worst fears confirmed by the voice of insecurity. It says, “Yes, that’s right. You’re wrong about everything” and feeling bad feels right, because it feels like truth that you don’t deserve to feel good. Depression doesn’t feel good, and somehow Depression convinces you that things that feel good can’t be your truth. Depression lies like a cheap rug.
But.
Depression lies. Yesterday those lies felt like truth. Today, they feel less like marble and more like papier-mâché. Less like concrete and more like plaster veneer. They feel like lies.
Not today, depression. Yesterday, you were Depression. Capital D. Today, you’re lower-case d. Yesterday, you might have had a chance. Today, you can take your lies and go fuck off. I’m not falling for it today.
skylarkermom 