Down in the Deeps

Depression’s like a fog. When it rolls in, it’s amazing how dense and impermeable it seems.

I started some medication lately that I have just realized has triggered a massive depression episode for me. I’ve been irrevocably depressed for the last week, and it’s only dawned on me today that It Just Ain’t Right. You know that feeling -- something’s off?

Oh, very, very off.

I’ve made a doctor’s appointment for Monday, but I am just so grateful to know the signs of what depression is like. Having ridden this ride before, I have to tell you, I know I don’t want a repeat. Any friend I speak to in the next couple days will hear that I feel depressed and just want to alert them.

The fact is, while I’m sure nothing stupid will occur to me, when it’s something like a chemically-induced depression, you just shouldn’t take chances.

I don’t know what suddenly stopping these pills will do to me, so I’ll have to stay on them until Monday, but geez... I hope just being aware of the state they’ve put me into is enough to fight it off. What a dreary world depression is. I had this memory of it being as dark as hell, but couldn’t have remembered this, this feeling of bleak hopelessness and utter despair, all for no proper reason.

There’s no reason I should be depressed. None. Life is swimmingly good. Met a man, keeping the bills paid, and the weather’s even cooperating some. Yet there it is: Darkness.

How strange a beast it can be. So, while I suspect I know the cause, I’m not exceedingly worried that this will last. The depression tells me otherwise, but that’s the only voice it has.

It’s taken me a week or more to realize that this is depression. Last week, I thought I was just tired and stressed out. The mood progressed, when it should have improved, given certain events that transpired, and now here I am, swimming in my sorrows that are all so very misplaced.

Depression’s not something you can outthink. “Hey, dude, I got it good. Life’s cool. I’m totally on top.” You can’t outtalk depression. It has all the right answers.

“Yeah, but it won’t last.”
“You don’t deserve it.”
“You’re only kidding yourself.”
“That’s just what they want you to think.”

And I'm smart, I'm passionate, I'm tuned-in, I'm clued into the reality of it all, so where the fuck does that pissant voice of doubt come from? I’ll never understand it. Fortunately, I think the clock is ticking on it, and within the week, I’ll be back to Zippy Steff again. At least, these are my hopes.

Depression, though, likes to really grab hold of its victims, so we’ll have to monitor this and see where it goes.

Me, though, as long as I’m having this cloud hanging around, I’m gonna be open and real about it. Not enough people are, and I figure it might be a good way of keeping this shit in check. Stay tuned.