But today is a depression day. Actually, this whole week has been like that.
I didn't want to get out of bed today. I woke up at 6:00 and my fantasy is that I can somehow become a morning person. But, I never want to leave my dreams. I fell back to sleep and woke up again at 8:00, but still couldn't get out of bed.
I'd spent the night before writing about guns and rage and anger on Facebook, trying to get conversations going where people can at least acknowledge there is a problem. It seems that's a role I can play, or want to play.
But then I wake up, and I don't believe in myself. I dread that I said awful things and that I'm going to be punished for voicing an opinion. I stay in bed and don't want my day to begin because I dread bad news and notifications of needs for corrections and other things that bring me a great deal of stress.
I'm in a cycle, I know this. If I had gotten up at 6:00 and gone to the gym, I'd likely feel so much more capable than I do now. But I had to get to work to begin writing a story, a story that is not proceeding so well as I write this. I can't seem to connect to it, and the voice of doubt is screaming at me that I'm not good enough to write this story.
I confess my vulnerabilities. My therapy in part is to be honest about the way my biochemistry works and about the way I cope with the sadness that flows through my bloodstream. I've gotten very good at challenging myself, but I need to get better. I should have run, but I panicked that I needed the time to write the story.
I don't write out why I have the sadness, and maybe I should. It relates to poor decisions I have made but writing about those poor decisions and the isolation I feel as a result can be counter-productive. I want to move forward, but I never quite seem to get ahead. I have a very hard time believing in myself and I have an even harder time believing that I have any worth to anyone else.
Another trap, but one I can't escape.
I'm trying to. Me writing here is one way to get all of this out of my head. I need to understand it better. I have deliberately chosen a non-medicated way to deal with my depression. I believe that sharing my feelings, albeit with an anonymous audience, is a good way to shake my fist at the demons. One day maybe I'll be able to believe in myself for more than 20 minutes.
At the end of the day, I'm not living the life I want to live. I don't even believe I have a choice anymore. This literally depresses me.
But I'm a fighter, and I get through the day by going through my job anyway, slowly piecing together stories. The doubt shouts at me, and a feeling like being punched from within pulses and pulses. I imagine the worst thing that ever happened to me is happening again, and I just have to take a very deep cleansing breath and remember the best things that have happened to me. I think of my children, I think of how I want to help them with any emotional difficulties they have. I want them to never let people take away their self-confidence from them. I think about the kind of life I want to live, and how I might be able to cut through the furious vines that keep me in place.
Maybe one day I'll get there.
Today, though, is a depression day, and I'm fighting it. I got out of bed, I'm writing my story, and I will find room in my day to run. Running makes everything better.