Depression isn’t pretty. It’s grey.

13 Jan

Lately when I look outside, all I see is grey. Occasionally, rarely really, do I see a tiny sliver of sun and before I can turn my head to it, it’s gone, as though it was almost imagined.

That’s how I feel right now. Inside. It’s as though I am looking at the world through a lens of grey where there is no colour to be found. And it sucks.

When I was a kid, I don’t remember saying “when I grow up, I hope I’m never happy”. Who does that? Anyone? I doubt it. I like to be happy, I’m just not. And it isn’t a specific thing, unless you count the chemical imbalance that is depression to be a “thing”.

You have a great family.

I do.

You have a great job.

I do.

You have a lot of friends.

I do.

You just seem so happy.

You smile a lot.

You laugh.

You look happy.

But I’m not happy. I hurt, inside and out. All the time. I would love to crawl into my bed and sleep until this overwhelming, bone weary fatigue lifts and I can turn my face to the sun for more than five seconds.

I have moments of happiness, when I’m with my kids and they are showering me with kisses and we are playing and reading and just spending time together or sometimes when I’m chatting with a friend and we’re laughing and laughing about something.

And then it’s over and I’m back to sadness.

I have no idea how long it will last, this overwhelming sadness. I would hate to have to wait until spring.

Lucky for me, I have a good doctor and will once again drag myself into the office this week. I feel like a nuisance. Why am I not better?

My blog seems like a real downer. Glad it’s my own blog. :/

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