Depression

Today is Valentine’s Day, a day for love and romance and happiness. My husband and I are currently sitting in the living room: he’s texting our realtor, I’m writing this post. We’re in contract on our house, but we have nowhere to go as yet. My anxiety is warring with my sense of numbness. A huge part of me wants to shrug and sing Que Sera, Sera. The other part of me is:

Yup. Overall I’m a numb, depressed, anxious mess. I don’t recommend it.

I’ve never done antidepressants before, but this loss has me considering it. I have nothing against better living through pharmaceuticals, I just didn’t want to rely on pills as the easy way out of my bad thinking. However, I can’t do another year of not sleeping. I need to find a regular job and try to start again, for the third time. If antidepressants will help me feel okay enough to sleep well, I’d probably be willing to give up a kidney.

God help me, I just want to sleep. I’ve written before about my sleepless/restless nights, the long, pointless dreams, etc; I’ve talked about how my brain has been scrambled, potentially forever, by trauma and grief. It’s all happening again, unfortunately.

If I sit still too long, if I start thinking about things too much, the weight settles over me. It feels like I’m pinned to my chair from the weight of my depression. Out of nowhere, I can be too tired and heavy to think or talk. Maybe it’s time to ask my doctor for a prescription.

I hope, if you’re reading this, that you get to spend some quality time with your sweetheart today. My husband, God bless him, is the only thing that gets me through some days. He’s the sweetest, most patient man, even in the midst of his own grief. I don’t deserve him, but I’m grateful for him.