The thing is, I haven’t been able to really enjoy these things. Not just because I’m sober. Being sober is not a drag, it’s really nice so far actually. Pleasant, even. The issue is that sobriety has brought to light the realization of some very real deep-seated depression that is opening up like a wound. I think of the word depression and I think “sad”. But it’s so not just about like, being bummed out about anything. It’s so much more!
Depression makes you do weird things to your hair.
Depression of course affects everyone in different ways. I didn’t even realize I was depressed until about two weeks went by where I spent all of my free time in bed. My roommates would feed me. I would get up to shower, think about going outside, then inevitably just sit down then fall back asleep in my bed.
Everything inside me wanted to go out and socialize. I really wanted to do my Bible study. I had two Bibles sitting on my nightstand that I looked at with longing and affection. What I wanted to do was read Ephesians in both translations and pray and write a blog.
My hand would reach out to grab one of the Bibles, my fingers would flip through the pages, then I
would set the Bible down again beside me and fall asleep. I’m sorry I failed you, God. I just can’t right now.
Maybe watching a movie would make me feel better. I went into Netflix and scanned the movies. The shows. Checked the documentary section, they always hit the spot…. There was the “Making a Murderer” series.
I will be honest with you and say I probably started and stopped watching about 12 different shows and movies over the past 14 days. I didn’t find any of it interesting. I lacked all focus to get into anything. Even old favorites.
Everything seemed bland and I wasn’t smart enough to get it.
So I tried something else. Color therapy is all the rage right now. Maybe I could color a little and get my creativity moving. My parents had just hooked me up with some of my old art supplies so I grabbed some pretty markers and pencils and started making gestures of an artist in my sketchbook. But I’m not an artist. So I’d set the bag of pens and pencils on the closed notebook beside me in bed and I’d fall back asleep.
I’d text some friends then forgot I had texted them. Then wouldn’t continue the conversation. I’d set my phone down and go back to sleep, waking up to a few texts that read “???”
Being depressed is like wanting to eat but nothing
My therapist eventually felt that I should consider medication.
Medications and I have a long history of not being on the same page. However, I was still using at the time and meds and alcohol DO NOT mix.
I write all this to say to myself that I think it’s okay to give medications a try again, just for now. It’s okay to be depressed again, just for now.
It’s okay, it isn’t a disaster.
For now, I’m okay playing the part of a complete human being. All I’ve been able to accomplish is putting on a full face of make up and changing out
of my flannel PJ’s into some leggings but that’ll have to do for now. I still have to stand at my bed and decide if I’m going to climb back in or walk away. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose.
But, the battles not over yet.
Do you wanna stay in bed all day? (Yes!)/Do you remember feeling any other way? (No!)