I was going to clean off the refrigerator today, but I put it off because there’s eight million of those little fucking poetry magnets all over the thing. Instead, I got out my sketchbook, completely unaware of what I was going to doodle, and the image you see above is what happened.
Today is a dark day for me. Typically, depression hits me pretty hard around this time of year. It’s been pretty mild the past few months, but for the past two weeks, I have felt more and more alone and isolated. Part of this is because I’ve been off work for so long (First the holiday vacation, then I was sick, and then I had a small outpatient procedure earlier this week.), which means my social interactions (even is they’re only with co-workers) have been nonexistent. Online interactions aren’t the same as seeing someone’s face as you speak with them. A phone call is better, because you can hear the warmth in the other person’s voice, hear their laughter, and feel a real connection with them. But even phone calls have been pretty scarce.
The worst part about depression for me, though, is that I withdraw from contact. I retreat into “my cave” because I don’t want people to see me like this. Of course, it only makes me feel MORE isolated and alone, and I’m rational enough to realize that it’s a retarded thing to do. But I’m also proud. I don’t want to burden other people with something they can’t help with. It’s a problem with chemistry in my brain, and no amount of texts, words, laughs, or hugs are going to make it go away.
But I can not honestly say that they don’t help make this isolation more bearable. So thank you, to the people that reach out to me despite me growling at them. Thank you for wanting to help, even when I refuse it.