scott

/ sorrow found me when i was young / sorrow waited, sorrow won / sorrow, they put me on the pills / it’s in my honey, it’s in my milk /

Those lyrics by The National are probably the most profoundly accurate description of my depression I’ve ever heard, that I didn’t write for myself. The best I can do myself is that depression makes it so that I most often feel like my soul is trying to breathe through a wet blanket. Like something deep inside me can never get enough oxygen and is weary and tired.

I haven’t felt like doing any of the things I love doing lately. I’ve heard that when most people are feeling down, they do things they love doing, take some time for themselves, and that often makes them feel better. Depression doesn’t allow for that. Instead, the things I love doing most are poisoned by the vice in my chest. It’s in my honey. It’s in my milk. Milk and honey, the ancient symbol of blessing and promise, but what does one do when even blessing and promise are tainted.

I love reading, watching movies, watching good television, playing video games, and above all, writing. I’m not sure how to cope when all of those things feel like overwhelming chores. It’s hard enough to do my actual chores. What happens when my breaks feel like chores?

Today is a rough day, but I’m thankful because yesterday was a bit of an oasis. We were with friends for a 7 course feast that lasted somewhere around 10 hours. It was one of the few times in months that I’ve honestly felt good, eating and drinking and laughing with friends.

Hebrew scripture has this story of a prophet who was wandering in a stormy wilderness, when God sent an angel to let the prophet rest in a cleft of rock while his needs were attended to. Yet, the angel warned him that it was only a brief reprieve. The prophet’s lonely journey wasn’t over, he had to go back out into the stormy wilderness again after he got some rest. I worry that yesterday was just a short moment in the cleft of the rock, but I’m thankful for it all the same.

I’m trying to force myself into goodness, whether I can feel it or not. I will pledge to write every day again. Not that all of it will make it onto the internet, but I will write something all the same. Hell, I guess I could put anything on the internet though, if this stream of consciousness can make it up here.

I think I am going to try to post something I’m thankful for every day as well. Something to remind me that even when I can’t feel it, there is profound goodness in my life.

I’m thankful for my friends, for good drinks and delicious food, for song lyrics that connect with my core, and for sitting here and writing for just a few minutes.