Lead Blanket

I've written about depression before. I've written about the descent into the black hole that is numbness and blah. But now I want to write about the lead blanket. This is what I might call slight remission. It's the feeling when you can do life, but with a good amount of extra effort.

One day you might do all the laundry and make all the beds and even work productively for a good amount of time and make a social plan. You feel good about that because it took every thing you had to do it. Then you realize that normal people do this every day and call it normal. They aren't self-congratulating or eating peppermint patties to reward themselves. They don't feel proud because that is silly.

I literally just stopped this blog and stared at things for 45 minutes. For no reason. Something inside me is telling my brain to sllllooooowww doooowwwwnnnn ssssttttoooppppppp. And then it's fuzz for a bit. I notice that I started something and go back to it, feeling weird about being so easily distracted from it, but also feeling guilty that I haven't finished it or anything else. Right now I am forcing myself to write each and every single letter and something inside me is asking me to please stop writing. Please stop focusing. Please stop doing anything and stare back at the trees or screen or cars or dogs or candy or anything else. Stop writing words. I had to fight really hard to write three sentences. You read it in five seconds, I reread it and didn't understand why it was so damn hard to write. But it was. Below is what happens when I sort of gave in to the lead blanket and wrote through the experience...

It's like having a toddler at the control station. But not a lively, happy toddler. A toddler who is having a bored temper tantrum in his sleep. Green leaves. White basketball court, silver car. What are you writing about again? Oh yeah, the fact that your pseudo depression makes you lazy and it's hard for you to focus and you can't do anything without the most effort. No one will believe you or care. Why do you care to communicate it? The sun is so warm. I wonder if I will get a sunburn. Part of me hopes I will. Remember that woman who died of skin cancer? That's the weirdest thing to remember right now. Siren. Bugs. blue car.

Siren continues.

Mother getting her kids in the car.

Dirty grill. My dog is barking. Birds chirping.

Depression is that lead blanket that makes your feet so painfully difficult to get out of your bed and onto the floor. Depression on the good days means that you made the effort to make meals. Congratulations. The only one who feels a little bit good about this is you (and now you don't anymore).

Do I need medicine? Can we afford it? I don't want the side effects. I feel fine most of the time. If I can just sit in the sun enough. The vitamins will fix me. The sun smells like my childhood. I spent a lot of time swinging under the sun as a child. No wonder I've always wanted to be able to fly. I wish I wasn't afraid of heights, a new fear to go with adulthood. Not that humans can fly anyway- the way I want to - with wings.

Children are exhausting because they move so fast, without the lead blankets. They don't understand why it is so hard for you to keep up.

Fix me sun. Fix me. Paralyzed. Slow. Low blood pressure and slow heart beat. Health? Or death?

The sun is so nice and warm. Finally.

I'm tired of writing this. Those who understand understand. Those who don't just don't. I will always be lazy. I will always have to work harder just to be normal. What I wouldn't give to feel light again.

Should I post this? Or will people start asking me too many questions or making too many suggestions or caring too much and adding so much more weight to the lead blanket?

Why do I sound so dramatic? Get over yourself.

The sun is so wonderfully warm.