You find my words dark. Darkness is in our souls, do you not think? James Joyce, Ulysses
I don’t know if anyone reads this or not, but I haven’t been updating the blog. I apologize for that. I’ll explain why in a minute. When I thought about starting the blog, I debated about what to write about. A friend of mine suggested mental health, which I certainly have written about. But I think this post might be the most important of what I have written so far, at least to me, in that I can admit it: I am in the throes of a major depressive episode.
I saw the signs, but I didn’t want to see it. I could feel the darkness coming, slowly encompassing me, but I tried to shake it off. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t go through this again. I was doing everything I was supposed to, but it had other ideas. The darkness was back. Hello darkness, my old friend. That’s how the song goes, doesn’t it? There’s nothing friendly about this darkness. Go to hell, my enemy is more accurate.
What is it like, to be in a depressed episode? The first sign was the sleeping. All I ever want to do is sleep. I’m exhausted all of the time. And I know I shouldn’t be sleeping like I am. When I’m not sleeping, I’m resting and just lying around. I have no energy to do anything. Or the desire.
My creativity is stifled, hence the lack of blog posts. At least, it is stifled in some ways. My brain isn’t processing my thoughts right, and no blog posts or ideas have come out of it. So here we are. There’s pain that comes from depression, especially when you’re in an episode, and I find bits of poetry inspiration coming to me through that pain. I can understand how some use their pain to create their arts. It is soothing almost, to take your pain and use it against itself. I create art, rather than the pain creating me.
There is pain. I can’t explain it. But it is like choking, being denied air. My chest almost always hurts. At times, it is more noticeable than others. There are times when pain just overcomes everything else. The worst comes at night. Hence, the darkness.
Sometimes it feels like I’m just going through the motions. Living a life day after day. Nothing changing. Just a dark blob following me around. And yet, life goes on. It has to. Right now, yes, I’m in the middle of this with a blob attached to my back weighing me down. But eventually, eventually, it’ll fade away. It has to. Until then, I have to somehow keep pushing through. Until then, it’ll be a struggle. Like walking knee deep through mud. But every movement forward is still, well, forward progress.
Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise. Victor Hugo