When I asked my doctor for anti-depressants in September, I would have honestly told you that I didn’t feel depressed, just down, just blue, just like I was standing on the edge of the very deep hole. I thought since I had travelled this road before, I would know if I was in the hole, I would know if I had already sunk that low. I truly believed that I was just on the outskirts.
But depression lies.
In the month and half since I have been taking my meds, I have started doing the creative things that I love again, I am baking and making things from scratch instead of taking things from the freezer and putting them in the microwave. I have actually given away hand-me-downs from Supergirl to her little friends instead of allowing them to continue to collect on and under the dining room table. I have made her Halloween costume.
I have my drive back and can actually focus on things around me rather than just focusing on myself.
I recognize that this might not seem like such a huge deal to people on the outside, people that don’t understand that a touch can be so painful that it brings tears to your eyes, people that don’t get that many little noises can gather together in my head to create one loud cacophony of SOUND that makes no sense whatsoever, people that don’t know how much energy it takes just to hold a short conversation – but to me it’s like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders, the burden of everyone else’s happiness is no longer mine to bear anymore, the heaviness of their needs, their wants are not my main priority, not my responsibility, not at all.
And to those people the freedom that these realizations give me is also unexplainable. How do I explain to the ones that have always been free what it means to no longer be a slave to the crashing waves of an unseen disease? How do I describe the torment that my body has gone through daily for longer than even I had realized to someone that only sees the smiles on my face or the chirp in my voice that I use when faced with the public? How do I detail color that seemed lost for so long, when everything was dim and gray and blurred by my own tears?
I don’t know that I own the words necessary to make the shiny, normal ones understand, I am not sure that I ever will.
But I am better. I am content in this new place. And I am starting to find comfort again.
It’s kind of a big deal.