It’s difficult to talk about

Hello All. I don’t know how this will come across, so forgive me for doing a bit of navel gazing. I thought giving a bit of voice to something I really really don’t want to talk about may help. Or, at least it may help someone else. Who knows.

What people don’t always understand is that I find it very difficult to talk about this, and forced to, I feel even worse and find myself with even darker thoughts. Nonetheless, it seems right to try.

See, when you tell people you are dealing with depression, they try to give you advice, tell you to snap out of it, some begin to smother you – or at least it feels that way. Frankly, it’s a psychophysiological issue, and there are no easy answers, no easy solutions.

Most doctors don’t understand depression any better than their patients. They either want to overmedicate or ignore.

Most people dealing with depression try to self medicate. Alcohol, drugs, impotent rage at the smallest things. Me – it’s eating my feelings and hiding away in the house away from my overwhelming problems that others likely see as immaterial issues.

I’m still working every day, but I don’t want to go in. I want to stay home. I don’t want to deal with the problems at work because they are seemingly insurmountable. Heat not working. Machines not working. Employees not working. My truck isn’t working. And my dryer is shrinking my clothes… ok, that might be the Little Debbies. Messed up thing is, if I stay home I’m alone with things that aren’t working here at home and someone needs to clean the kitchen! So, going in to work is actually relieving after a while.

One of the things that surprises people is just how many of us live with depression. Just how many go to work, feed the kids, fill the gas tank and go through their normal day dying inside. I had to tell my boss on Thursday that I was not doing well with his – what feels like – pummeling me with criticism and ‘why didn’t you’s’. No one is perfect, and even though I tried to make the right decisions – well, I could only handle so many things even though I knew I was letting him down even while I was killing myself trying to be everywhere and handle everything.

Does he know that I am forced to handle imperative things that others are assigned but fail to do or that no matter what I do there are so many things yet to do? Does he know that I am working late just to get things done when no one is in the way? Does he know that I’m tired but can’t sleep no matter how exhausted I am? Does he know that I’m whining to you rather than cleaning my kitchen?

The odd thing is that I don’t know whether to feel better that I’m not alone or feel worse that so many of us have to deal with this shit. And, that’s the point, isn’t it. So many of us deal with this it’s just called “being an adult in America”. I wanted unicorns and rainbows, and like everyone else I more often just get bull-shit and rained on. (sigh!) Adulthood sucks. So, be kind to those you meet, for they are likely going through their own battles.

And, for those of you out there that are, well – just another adult in America, hang on. Keep going. I’ve heard the sun comes out, tomorrow.

Hugs and Loves.

Randy