I AM DEPRESSED

 

          I am depressed. It’s something I’ve fought against my entire life and even taken medication for at times. I don’t know if scientists have discovered a gene(s) responsible for depression, but I’m sure it’s genetic. My mother, grandmother and great-grandmother, all of whom were alive during my life, suffered from depression.

          I fight against being depressed, but today I am ready to put down any effort toward being not depressed. I’m extremely tired of putting on a “show” for family and friends. And, I feel I have to put on a “show” for them because they do not want to hear or see the negativity I’m feeling most days.

          Yes, I’ve been writing and posting about other things in my life, but beneath all those upbeat posts, the biggest part of me is actually thinking about how I really don’t give a flying fuck about the garden, fall, fingernails, writing, or really, anything at all. They’re all just efforts that I feel I have to make to remain on the periphery of my family’s and friend’s lives.

          Something else I’ve been doing, hate and want to just stop is exercise. Seriously, what’s the point of walking, raising my cardio level, or being physically active in anything? Significant portions of my body hurt whether or not I exercise; and it’s likely they’ll continue to cause me discomfort until I can no longer feel.

          Then, there’s eating, the only real physical pleasure left to me. Even that is accompanied by thoughts of how I should not be having that particular food. It’s full of fat or sugar or carbs. I shouldn’t have that drink every day at gin time because it’s not good for me either. Eating and drinking, my last pleasures, are always spoiled by those negative thoughts.

          As a young woman, I remember envisioning a future where I’d travel the world, see unbelievable things, do unbelievable things all while surrounded by or accompanied by family and friends. Still, even then, while it wasn’t at the forefront of my thoughts and plans, I think I knew none of that would ever really come to pass. I knew I’d end up like my female antecedents, living alone, doing most everything alone and being depressed. I now wish I’d been more loving and supportive of my mother and grandmother. Guess it’s like they say or threaten, “What goes around comes around.”

          As a widow, I’m totally unimportant to absolutely anyone. My sons check in once a week to make sure I’m still alive and, perhaps to see if I need anything. There are a few folks I see regularly, one for exercise class, another for walks and the third for coffee, sometimes lunch. Other family and friends check in every now and then, but I’m definitely not at the top of their contact list and why should I be. I often wonder how long I’ll be dead before anyone realizes I’m gone.

          Yes, besides being depressed, I’m feeling sorry for myself…but if I don’t, who will? There’s absolutely nothing in my future that stands out as a huge event to which I can look forward. There’s no chance of meeting anyone, falling in love, becoming a new mother, finding a new and interesting job, or taking a trip to the moon. I’ve done all those things and am too old to do again; and as for trips, there are many reasons why I won’t be going to the moon or anyplace else.

          So, today as I sit here typing this, feeling depressed and sorry for myself, the only big event I foresee in my future is death. It’s not as though I’m going to seek it out, it’s just the only experience left. Today, right now, I think I’m going to simply withdraw from life, hunker down in my house like a snail and wait for the man (or woman) with the scythe to arrive.