Depression is a bitch

Depression is a weird thing.

Its fairly simple to say, that the things I have been thru and continue to deal with are the root of my depression.

And no I have not been formally diagnosed as being depressed, but its not hard to make that self determination. Its a little like having an ingrown toenail and saying I have an ingrown toenail without seeing a doctor.

You know what it is the doctor just gets $50 to confirm it.

I'm not a big believer in anti-depression drugs...I'm sure they probably help a great many people. But for me I've always felt that medications don't solve the root problems, they may provide relief. But the problem is still there once the meds wear off.

Maybe I'm completely wrong in that. Maybe the relief is enough to help the wounds heal.

Honestly I just don't know.

But what I do know is depression is a weird animal.

I feel like there is not a lot in life that makes me happy. And fear that the things that do make me happy are only things that can be taken away.

On general days I fret about the normal stuff everyone does. Bills, work, health...etc.

On bad days I can't get that stuff out of my head and all I want to do is cry. Generally centering on Mom being gone and the seemingly impossible tasks of overcoming the issues set before me.

The first is fairly normal. The second is understandable and passes after a little self pity.

The worst is the random thoughts that pop in at just the strangest times.

Like...
-The thought that...this is it. Life will not get better, the remained of my time will be spent enduring this and there will be nothing better. In fact it will only get worse.
-A few days ago it dawned on me...the generation before me all died in their 50's thru 60's. And a few of the generation before that even earlier. This is a good indication that this will be my fate as well.


And lastly...most disturbingly...I was online at Hobby Lobby yesterday. It had not been a bad day. In fact it was a particularly maybe even painstakingly average day and the thought hit me...I understand suicide.

Sounds pretty ominous don't it?

Let me clarify...I don't feel like I would commit suicide. In fact one of my character flaws is I simply have never known when to call it a day. Any job I have worked at I on some level probably knew I should have gotten out sooner, but I always stayed on until the company closed or moved, or downsized a division or just the job went serious sour. So by that definition I probably wouldn't take my own life simply because I don't know when to quit even if it is in my best interest.

But suddenly in that Hobby Lobby line I understood why people do take their lives. I could feel this crushing weight on my mind that made me realize people kill themselves because of this. The unbearable sadness that just makes you want it to stop.

In many ways I want it to stop. Granted its not always in the forefront of my life or thoughts as it was in that moment...but what if it was? What if that's what my life was like all day...everyday? That unbearable pain Norman Bates once described as 'Cancer of the Soul'...what would you do to make that pain stop?

Its a scary thought.

In the end...like I said I get depressed...I think everyone does...maybe its more...maybe its less than others but I keep moving. Keep trying.

Will there be bad days?

Probably.

No...I'm sure of it.

But I keep trying.