I always wanted to be depressed. Like it was something that was good. I wanted to be mentally ill because my eldest brother was/is and he was a vortex of attention. Everything was sucked in his direction. How does a family survive a vortex in its own walls? We just did. Casualties? Well, a childhood, parenting, attention, a marriage. You just press on. But there is worry and anxiety. It’s sort of like having been raised in an alcoholics home. There is unpredictability. What version of madness will you get that day? Who knows. It’s not fun – it especially not fun when you are 8 years old.
I carry that. And that sadness comes up. And its random. A tweet, a bad nights sleep, newness or a particularly grumpy 3-year old can send us into a sad place. Listen, I’m aware a little hard luck and sadness isn’t a big deal in the greater stream of things. I have a good life, I live in a wonderful place, my life is amazing… But the demon does what it does. It arrives… it disrupts and it goes away. Who the hell knows why it does.
There are always external triggers. New responsibilities, added to old ones and boom…. you are there.
I push myself into a hole and hide, hoping nobody notices until they do. And then, I apologize for being a burden… for making trouble… (that’s the 8-year old still in there… feeling bad for making an issue of myself when the vortex is spinning constantly)
I’ll feel better in 24-hours… but right then, in the moment… it’s dark and I want to run away.