Battles

Concerning the Author's battles with Miss Depression.

Depression. Ah yes. I could write endless pages on my battles with her.

When I’m struggling through one I’m too far ‘in’ to write well. It’s too much bitching, too random and too already better done by others of raving eloquence I can’t begin to approach.

But it seems to me that writing about depression (here, in this blog) must be done while I’m in it.

Anything else seems so unnecessary.

I heard tools like therapy and logic and reason help to lessen the effect. Some medications have made it go away for months or even years. Medication helps sometimes, but I’m told it’s dangerous. (I believe it.) Alcohol has never helped and in fact I don’t drink.

I hear Pot can help, but is so unpredictable and imprecise. I believe we need more scientists to spend more time researching on this kind of stuff.

An unexpected hug from your lover can work temporary wonders, or an encouraging word from the friend. Those are good.

Even still, the bad days are…bad.

I’ve learned that I can still work within the limits. I can still do 3D. I can still Blog.

I feel as though I’m made of some kind of stone. My face doesn’t feel familiar.
Saw the movie Rocky Balboa. The movie makes me want to cry and I did. Just a tear.

Today I don’t like my work, or my reflection and I won’t talk on the phone. Matters not. No one calls.

But I can answer a comment or an email if you like.

Schools are not a place for the faint-hearted, even on the best of days.

The temperature was so hot outside. The sun was having its fun. Rain would feel better.

Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow I might not wake up feeling like someone who is hopeless, someone who is not me.

Till Tomorrow.