I am depressed. I have been for three days. But, it’s okay. (Don’t worry.) I know what to do. I’ve been here before. I am like the friend in the story who jumps in the hole after the priest, the rabbi, the others throw down the ladder and the shovel. I am the one who answers the question, Why did you jump in. Now we are both here? with the same answer I must give myself: Don’t worry. I’ve been here before, and I know the way out.
I am my own friend. I have been here before. I know the ways out. I have several I will try, have already begun to try. They’ve worked before. Time and patience are part of the mix. The support of trusted advisors and caregivers. Amino acids. If it gets really bad and is not breaking, I call my doctor. I have been here before, in fact, I once lived here. For years, a decade or more, I lived in this hole.
I did. I lived here.
I can still remember the point in my life when, occasionally, I would have a good day. I would get out of the hole. And then I’d be back in.
Then. There would be two or three days strung together.
Then, a week or two of living in the light.
This takes up very little space on the page. But this…
Now, I spend very little time in this hole. When I find myself here for a day or two, at first I panic. It is a visceral memory. I worry, I might get trapped here again. I might never get out. My life is a failure I wound up back here again I am a failure it will never work never my life is a failure….
It has been years since I’ve gotten to the point RW got to this week. The point where and when the voice is so incessant and insistent that you begin to believe it. I am lucky. There’s another voice that says,
It is a tiny voice.
Fortunately, I am a good listener.