Depression Marathon Blog

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Diagnosed with depression 17 years ago, I lost the life I once knew, but in the process re-created a better me. I am alive and functional today because of my dog, my treatment team, my sobriety, and my willingness to re-create myself within the confines of this illness. I hate the illness, but I'm grateful for the person I've become and the opportunities I've seized because of it. I hope writing a depression blog will reduce stigma and improve the understanding and treatment of people with mental illness. All original content copyright to me: etta. Enjoy your visit!

Saturday, February 9, 2008

LIFE interrupted

Today, this illness is interrupting my life. I guess I have not yet directly addressed this issue--depression interrupting my life. I've alluded to it multiple times. It is implied in several previous posts. In fact, now that I think about it, I've made it pretty damn obvious. But today, depression is blatantly interrupting my life.

Right now I am sitting in a very expensive, metropolitan hotel room next door to a very expensive, weekend training seminar which started three hours ago. Are you starting to see the problem? This is depression. This is depression screwing up my plans, cutting into my potential, and interrupting my life.

My illness does not care that I have spent this time and money in an effort to better my situation. This illness mocks goal-setting and planning. While I endeavor to remove myself from disability, depression slips silently alongside me, barely holding back a sneer, as it endeavors to break my stride. Then as if on some predetermined cue, out it comes to block my way. Today, my depression is not so silent. It is loud. It is clear. It is directly in my way.

Today, depression is blatantly interrupting my life.
And I hate it.

I hate it, but seven years of my sneaky depression's dance have forced me to cope. I have learned some sneakiness, too. In years past, when depression jumped in my way, we fought. I punched, cut, kicked, screamed, slapped, scratched, and poured chemicals down my throat. Depression loved this! It highlighted its sneakiness! It allowed me to feel I was winning, momentarily, only to hit me harder after I'd knocked myself a notch further down. In the end, I was bruised, battered, and suicidal while depression had gained free residency in my soul.

Today, I will wait.

My depression is not so fond of this technique, but it works--sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. Unfortunately, I cannot control the timeline, but perhaps waiting bores my combative depression into pulling up stakes sooner rather than later. The one thing I do know is by waiting I will not end up more bruised than I already am. As hard as it is, I cannot afford to panic. I cannot afford to think of the money and time I am "wasting". I cannot afford to feed my depression, as hard as that currently is.
So, here I am. I am waiting in a very expensive, metropolitan hotel room next door to a very expensive, weekend training seminar that started three hours ago. My depression has lept into my path today. It is blocking my way and interrupting my life--temporarily.


Anonymous said...

this is such an eye-opening blogpost to me. thank you.

Anonymous said...

I just found your blog and I'm getting alot out if it - this post sums up exactly how I currently feel. Thank you for articulating this, giving it some structure in my mind is helping, if that makes sense.