Yesterday, I ran away from home...
...to the coffee shop down the street. And I got a coffee and a brownie and looked at pictures of kittens. You know, just your average human-being-maintenance-stuff. And I was so happy and calm and relaxed. The only reason I left the coffee shop is because Matt's MacBook was out of juice.
I've been off lately. In a funk, so to speak. A tad depressed, as it were.
Last night I was all ready to go to sleep about 1:30 am. But instead I made pancakes while on the phone with my boyfriend.
Kittens. 2am pancakes. Long distance boyfriend. Brownies.
You know, 'depressed' is a word that I think some of us throw around lightly. But it ain't light. It's heavy. And it ain't my brother.
I remember about 10 years ago having a phone conversation with my mother about my sister. It was one of those talk-about-sis-behind-her-back phone calls (Carrie, we were just concerned for your welfare).
I said to my mom, "Mom, I think Carrie's depressed."
My mom said, "Hmmm...no...I see depressed as not being able to get out of bed. You know? Like, you just don't wanna do anything."
It dawned at me at that moment that there are varying degrees of depression. A whole spectrum. Each degree is legitimately depression. I've been all up and down and around the spectrum.
I think I mentioned this before in a much earlier post, but just a few weeks after my wedding, I would curl up into a ball in the corner of my bedroom and sob.
When I was pregnant the first time, I didn't want to do anything. Pretty much the whole 9 months. And I wasn't sick (nauseous). Ever.
When Hana was an infant, when I got pregnant with Emma when Hana was 8 months old, when I was pregnant with Emma, still depressed. A nice, long lingering sadness. Sometimes it was more than just sadness, though. It was numbness. Sometimes it had a physical effect- like nausea (when I wasn't pregnant) or fatigue. I was mean to people sometimes- grocery store cashiers were a favorite target. I was always on the defensive waiting for someone to offend me. Believe me, when you're looking for that, you're gonna find it, and that is partly because you create it. (I am very wise)
I remember a time when I was pregnant with Emma. Hana was napping, so naturally I was napping, too. Someone knocked on my front door. It gave me so much anxiety that I could only lie there and cry in my darkened bedroom...as this person knocked on the door over and over and over.
I started therapy around this time and Zoloft.
Things evened out a bit. The depression felt more like a residual presence.
That was my first major bout of depression. Certainly wasn't the last.
One of the glaring memories I have of that time was winter. The landscape would be gorgeously covered in a thick blanket of snow against a bright, blue sky. But I would walk out the front door to that and feel physically ill. The intense brightness of what was right outside my door was like a slap in the face. It only made me acutely aware of how dark it felt inside of me. I couldn't handle the light. Darkness came to be what I knew.
So, I lightly throw around the word depressed today, now. But I am in a funk. It's real.
I have had enough therapy and success with therapy to know how to deal with this. I have tools. Within me.
I also enjoy wine.