It has been 8 months since I last wrote about depression. Since then, there have been peaks and troughs but overall, it’s been a steady line on the richter scale. Then BAM, out of nowhere, it comes: a duvet day. It makes its presence known upon dawn’s eye opening; a sudden realisation that today is not OK. Today is not yesterday.
Four hours later, my bed loses its battle and I manage to drag my weight to the shower pleading with my mind to let me go
Yesterday I was fine; good even. Life was lived in technicolour. That’s one of the most frustrating things about depression: something small or insignificant triggers a relapse. All of a sudden, you’re back to square one, usually just when you feel that you are making progress; that life without Sertraline seem within an arm’s reach. Alas.
You feel defeated, pathetic and a sense a loss. You grieve what today could have been: the plans you made to make things right with the people you lost touch with after your last episode; the meetings that you had confirmed but won’t be able to make; life’s daily opportunities that you don’t even notice until you are taken away from you, like food, company, or laughter.
What keeps you going? Tomorrow.