On a Rope


This, my friends, is depression.

This is crying in the Gym changing room after exercise that should make me feel stronger yet there are no endorphins spare today. This is hugging knees so tightly to my chest I think they’ll snap. This is knowing that happiness is for other people and not for me not because it is not deserved, but because it simply cannot be found. This is being objective enough to know I’m in trouble but subjective to the point of wanting to scream at everything to JUST GO AWAY. This is playing a game that used to be a means to help me feel something and instead there being nothing there at all.


The rational part of my brain knows how much worse this could be, and is a lifejacket keeping me afloat. I think of friends who are in pain, fighting through cancer treatment, brain tumours, unemployment and personal trauma and I have absolutely nothing bad or wrong in life. Depression does not care about how good things are. All it wants is your soul, dragged down out of reach, so it can destroy weeks of confidence and progress. It is a measure of how good I’ve become that forcing brain into expressing the problem has made writing about it possible and explaining it to my husband far less of a horror story than on previous occasions. This is progress.


I’ve been here since Monday. Work has suffered. I’ve managed to put the brakes on losing momentum, but am going to have to shelve the plans I had for today’s Haiku picture because there is simply not enough confidence to use myself as a model. Instead, I’ll show you what depression looks like when you’re lying to yourself. It’s a deception that is required to get out of the bottom of the hole so that the way back up doesn’t kill you.

This is why I don’t want to talk about stuff, but forced myself to do so to two total strangers yesterday. That’s distinct progress. I’m sorry if I’ve missed your stuff, but there are mutes on right now for very good reason. Sometimes, you can’t cope with other people in the same hole with you. I’m really sorry.

I’m trying to get out.