A Day with Depression

Morning. Alarm goes off. Hit the snooze button – 30 more minutes won’t kill me.

Alarm goes off again. I should probably get up now if I want to be productive today, actually do something other than the bare minimum: shower, go to work, come home, eat, sleep, repeat. I should get up.

Hit the snooze button – 30 more minutes won’t kill me.

Repeat 3-4 times per day. Finally get up, just in time to get ready for work and make it there on time. Take longer than I should in the shower because I’m too busy worrying about anything that could go wrong today. Or already has gone wrong. Have I already screwed up something? “Yes,” my mind says. “Probably.”

Get dressed, drive to work. Radio is on, but it doesn’t matter. My own thoughts are much louder. My boss will probably get mad at me for that thing I did yesterday. My hair looks stupid. Did I take out my trash? Work is going to drag on today. I need more coffee. No, coffee won’t fix this.

Walk into work. My co-workers probably don’t want me here. They’d prefer working with someone “happier.” More talkative. Energetic. Outgoing. I’m none of those things. I smile and say hello, they smile and say hello back. Friendly greetings, bright smiles. How nice of them to put on a show for my sake.

Start working. Work sometimes distracts me long enough that I forget how miserable I am at points. It’s not the job making me miserable – I like the job. It’s the person performing it. I make myself miserable, because what reason do I have to let myself be happy? What have I done to earn that?

A customer is a jerk. Don’t take it personally, Ryan, they would have gotten mad at anyone, you just happened to be there. They probably just had a bad day. Don’t take it personally. Don’t take it personally.

Dwell on it. Make the situation worse by wondering what I could have done to prevent it. Probably nothing – I’m not skillful or smart enough to make good decisions. Somebody else would have handled that better. I screwed up, didn’t I? Yeah, I must have screwed up.

Get through the rest of work. Drive home, mind slightly calmed because I have a whole (at least) 12 hours before I have to deal with life again. But not fully calmed. Never fully calmed.

Get home. Eat. Man, I wish I knew how to cook. I can’t make anything but the bare essentials when it comes to food – no woman is going to find that attractive. No woman would find me attractive anyway. I’m probably going to eat and just get fat. No, I’m probably already fat.

Change into comfier clothes. Headphones in, music up. Music way, way up. If I can’t get these thoughts out of my head, then I’ll flush them out with music. It even works for a bit. A bit.

Depressing song comes on. I could skip it, but I don’t. I listen to it. People have it so much worse than me, yet here I am sulking in my room. I should be ashamed of myself. I already am ashamed of myself. “Not ashamed enough,” my mind says.

It’s getting late. I should go to bed if I want to get up at a reasonable time tomorrow. But. The sooner I go to bed, the sooner my mind will reach tomorrow. The dreaded tomorrrow, with all of its worries and fears and insecurities. 30 more minutes awake won’t kill me. Or an hour more. Or two. I’ll keep distracting myself from my own mind that way. That’s good, right?

Late night, definitely A.M. I suppose I should get to bed.

Morning. Alarm goes off. Hit the snooze button – 30 more minutes won’t kill me.

Just one of those days. One of those many days. But I stay strong and soldier on. Depression is a plague, a virus, an intruder, a locust, a storm, a dictator. All of these things inside my own mind. But I don’t let it define me.

Don’t let it define you either. You are so much more than that. You have so much to offer. Remember that, like I do, even on the hard days.

– Ryan