Sometimes, let’s face it, I sit down to do my daily writing practice and I’ve got nothing. I have no idea what to write about. I want to access something deep and meaningful inside me and there’s nothing there. It’s a blank slate.
There are things I’m thinking about but they’re all swirling in a way that makes it impossible to land on any one thing. Everything skitters away in the most frustrating manner. I have thousands of topic ideas and opening paragraphs written in my head, and as soon as I sit down at a keyboard they’re gone. Or, conversely, I wind up only having that opening paragraph and nothing to say after it’s written.
I love that I now know this to be my subconscious protecting me from something I’m not ready to address just yet. I’m feeling tremendously fragile right now and I’ve hurtled full-speed into full-on recluse mode. I haven’t seen or talked to friends in a couple weeks and I haven’t reached out for help like I usually do.
I know I should. I know that this behavior is a sign that I’m hurting and I need help. I don’t know how to ask for it, though. “It hurts,” is the only thing I can think to say. I don’t have anything specific hurting me, though. It’s a horrible, empty, gnawing kind of emotional ache without form or substance.
I want it to be more real so I can address it, but as we all know, that’s simply not how this works. Depression is vague, not solid. It isn’t one point of pain that can be worked on and addressed. It’s a thousand pieces of barbed wire poking at you from every angle, but whenever you turn around to try to look at any one piece, it’s suddenly not really there.
It’s trying to do battle with a ghost, with a fog. There isn’t a ‘thing’ in the boxing ring with me that I can knock out with a 1-2 punch. There’s just this haze around me at all times.
I know this will pass. These episodes always do. The knowledge that this is a ‘right now’ feelings versus being a ‘forever’ feeling helps me get through.
Right now, though, totally sucks. I am lonely even though I have friends who want to be allowed to love me. I am tired even though I slept. I am overwhelmed even though I’ve completed all my tasks and there’s nothing on my plate.
It’s the kind of feeling that haunts me. The ghost follows me everywhere. Sometimes it’s external to me and hovers in the background. Sometimes, like now, it takes possession of me and my body and mind are not my own.