Blank Pages.

I don’t even know where to begin, it’s been so long since I’ve done this.

Several weeks ago, a friend of mine contacted me to ask if I would be interested in participating in a writing project he’s setting up. Of course I’m interested, it’s been so long since I had any kind of real deadline and I’ve missed the frantic spurts of writing those deadlines inspire. But I must admit, I am also terrified. Not because I don’t have any faith in my own writing, but because I’m afraid of what will be revealed when I sit down to write again.

Even writing this post is frightening.

I have a confession to make. I haven’t been here because I am depressed. Again. Like I have been a thousand times before. It’s not quite as bad as it has been in the past, I still show up to work on time, I still shower and do most of the things I’m required to do to be considered mentally sound, but I’m slipping. I suppose I should be grateful to be self-aware enough to notice.

I slept in a pile of clean laundry for a few weeks. Piling it around myself made me feel safe and warm. I haven’t been eating anything but cast-off food from work for at least three months. I have no energy to face a grocery store full of people and it’s a struggle just to walk to the corner store for something to drink. Worse than being upset, I’m completely empty.

I don’t care about anything at all. I’d honestly feel a bit better about it if I could have a good cry, but instead I just lay down and stare at the ceiling until sleep finally gives me a break. It’s a bit like being a zombie, and pretending to be OK is simply exhausting. I know all of the wonderful good habits I could form that would make a difference and make me feel better, but I can’t do them. I can’t bring myself to leave the house on days off when I’d rather stay in my pajamas, rooted to my couch, and zone out with TV and Sims 3. I don’t want to face what’s really going on. I don’t want to take the necessary steps to get on with my life. I don’t want to form connections with people or talk about what’s bothering me because it’s not safe. It’s not enough. My suffering does not match the suffering of people worse off than me, so not only do I feel shitty, I feel guilty about it.

I spent last night making a mental list of all the sentimental objects I lost when I ran away from my boyfriend’s house. I envisioned the jewelry box my father painstakingly crafted for me at the bottom of a pile of garbage in a Toronto landfill, unseen and unnoticed. I imagined all my childhood journals covered in grime, all my passionate words and thoughts and prayers reduced to pulp. And mostly, it doesn’t bother me. Mostly, I’m happy to still have the memories if not the objects themselves. But sometimes it creeps up on me and makes me too upset to react.

My coping mechanism is to shut down, and it always has been.

I had a dream last night. I dreamed there was a strange, beautiful bird inside my apartment that wouldn’t leave me alone. Any time I tried to pick up the bird to put it outside, it stuck painful barbs into the palm of my hand. Once I got it outside the door, it would not leave. It stayed on the steps to my apartment and stared at me, trying again and again to get back inside. When things are good for me, I do the same thing. I reject them. I don’t want to be better because to be better is to be different. Different is terrifying. Pain and emptiness are familiar companions to me and I don’t know how I would cope without them.

But this is the first step, right here. I can admit that I’m not feeling OK through writing, and for me writing always comes before talking. I managed to force myself to clean my apartment and actually felt good about it once it was finished. I haven’t slept in a laundry pile in several days. I appreciate the beauty of a good day and I also understand that winter has played a large part in my depression. Spring is coming, warmer and longer days and brilliant sunshine.

So I at least have something to look forward to.

Posted by

Sorting out my life by writing about it.

6 thoughts on “Blank Pages.

  1. Why yes you do! Your visit is coming up and I can’t wait. This winter has been very long. You’re entitled to your feelings – without guilt. The fact that you experience pain doesn’t need to be dismissed because another also experiences pain…everyone has that right, and there need not be a comparison of levels, as your pain is your own and it matters. I’m thankful you’re taking steps…getting on with things as you can, and accepting that occasionally, it’ll take a little longer to get there. I will never know what your loss meant, I can only imagine, in terms of your childhood memories, thank God you have the memories. There is something to be said for reaching for the tangible (jewelry box), so you have every right to miss it. You are loved.

    1. I’m really looking forward to visiting too. As much as I love being a hermit, there’s something to be said for spending time in a different environment. ๐Ÿ™‚ As always, I’ll be fine. Sometimes I miss the tangible and it gets me down, but I’m also really thankful for the memories because that’s the most important part.

      And on the upside, I’m working with two of my friends tonight so it’s bound to be a wonderful evening! ๐Ÿ˜€

  2. Hey, I’ve missed you. I’m sorry to hear your depression is creeping around again. What a beautiful way you write about it, though. I like to think you are familiar enough with depression to realize that it’s treatable and fixable, right? Works for me. I hope that spring brings you peace and breaks you out of your apathy! Hugs and love to you!!!

    1. The nicer weather has definitely been helping! I’ve found it easier to get out of the house when I don’t have to put on ten pounds of warm outerwear! ๐Ÿ˜€ I’ve still got a ways to go but I’m feeling better this week. ๐Ÿ™‚ Thank you for your support, it means the world to me.

Speak freely.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s