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.