Sometimes it happens without you realizing it. All of a sudden you look up and see that you haven’t written in 2 weeks and that you have been fairly distant, and have tried to keep people at arm’s length. That maybe, just maybe, you’re fighting some depression.
Having a bout of depression doesn’t always mean that you don’t want to get out of bed, or that you don’t have any energy, or that you start crying for no reason. At least, not for me. Sometimes it just means you feel raw. Exposed. It means tapping into feelings and emotions is not feasible that day.
Sometimes it means that I don’t have the energy to write. Sometimes it means I can go to work. I can survive that, help my clients, do the small talk that is expected. I can crack jokes and laugh and do what I can to keep people just far enough away. When it is like that, it means that I have to budget my energy. I have to figure out what I can do, and be comfortable with that.
That doesn’t mean I stop striving for more, or to be the best i can be, but sometimes I have to accept what that means. It also means I need to keep watching and learning what this disease looks like for me.
I travelled for work last week. I spent a week living out of a hotel room, in a place I’m not very familiar with and with people I don’t know. I missed my son and my wife. I missed my dog. I wasn’t eating how I normally do, and I wasn’t sleeping very well. But it still took me until I got home to realize that I may have been experiencing an attack. A minor bout, but one all the same.
I set a goal to write a four part story last month, and I didn’t. But I am not going to let that stop me. I am still finishing it; Part 3 will come out on Wednesday, Part 4 next Wednesday. The rest of February will be a break from that format, but I’m going to try again in March.
Keep fighting friends. We are all in this together.