I want to write about my feelings because they’re still active within me. Depression is such a pernicious, conniving demon. Once again, I am not diagnosed and I don’t claim to be a doctor. I only know how I feel right now. I better write while the feeling is fresh. It began tonight after a playful, joking, and harmless comment from my brother about how I should slow down when I eat dinner. He tends to eat slower than me, so I finished dinner before him. The comment was a joke. It wasn’t meant to be harmful. I should know the difference.
Because I am sensitive, I hurt and I play it off. It’s easier this way. I guess. I hate how I’m so sensitive and I try to just ignore the pain that’s in me. The pain wins over a harmless little jab. If my brother knew how sensitive I truly was, I know he wouldn’t have said what he said. Typing it out makes me feel fragile. Maybe I am. I’ve always felt that I’m not built of the toughest material. When I feel hurt, I feel the need to separate myself from human interaction. It’s the only balm that makes sense in the moment.
My brother’s comment brought up thoughts about how better my life would feel if I escaped all scrutiny. I feel scrutinized living with someone else. Privacy is a jewel to me and I only seem to get it on my weekdays off. I feel selfish wishing for more privacy, but I can’t deny how I feel. The fact is, it was hard enough living with my parents. I felt scrutinized so many times. Now, living with my brother isn’t as bad. Still, there are parts of me I don’t want him to see because I just prefer being a clam in the river. And clams have the ability to shut their shells.
I keep thinking about being truly independent. If I live completely alone, then I suffer no scrutiny. No curious eyes. No trying to be chipper when my mind is in a dark place. I don’t have to be anything to anybody. Whether I succeed or fail, at least I have myself to congratulate or blame. The only person I can let down is myself, and that is so much more preferable than disappointing another.
Here come more thoughts. Thoughts like, I’m not enough for my brother. I can’t provide any interesting conversation. We eat in silence for the majority of dinner. And I guess it’s okay, but it’s also empty. Ah, yes. Emptiness. I’m not sure that I’m even a good brother if all I am is empty. I just feel a void within me and I can’t seem to fill it myself. And I hate to admit this, but I’m so robotic during conversations because there’s shit in my head that makes no sense for dinnertime talking. What I provide is minimal listening. I feel so inadequate.
And because I’d feel more comfortable if no one could see me, I desired to move out and live on my own. I wouldn’t be picky. All I’d need is a decent house with Internet. This is a common pattern for me. Whenever I feel pain that I can’t cope with, my next impulse is escape. A tiny comment from my brother has now caused me to swear off living with him so I can escape scrutiny. I want to escape scrutiny, because scrutiny leads to judgment, even if it’s only perceived judgment. And I just can’t. I can’t.
I went to take a shower because I needed space. I needed privacy again. I thought about how I probably didn’t make enough to live on my own. Therefore, I’m probably stuck like this. These negative thoughts pushed me deeper into the darkness. With dinner and the shower over, I knew I had time to do whatever I wanted (within reason). Video games? Writing? Something creative? I guess I should count myself lucky to be writing right now because my motivation to do anything plummeted hard. Like, not one of those activities seemed appealing at the time. A loss of interest in things I might have been excited about is a red flag, if nothing else.
And tomorrow, I return to my job and it’s all the same shit. I feel tired just thinking about it. I had today off and I had privacy for some hours. And I was happy. Well, content. I don’t know what “happy” is anymore. It’s a word devoid of meaning for me. I look to be “content” these days. Happiness is a foreign concept, because my baseline seems to be “neutral” to “slightly anxious.”
And you want to know the kicker? I feel freakin’ lonely. The same guy who’s saying he’d rather live alone is now saying he’s lonely. I know that doesn’t make sense, but please understand that I don’t tend to want company that I feel would judge me negatively for me just being myself. You can be lonely while living with people. If I feel that I’m going to be scrutinized, then I’d rather live alone. So to make it clear, I guess right now I feel starved of companionship. My brother is usually a companion in certain aspects of my life, but now I feel way too depressed to interact. I just need to be alone. I just need to talk to someone who will listen. That’s why I’m writing right now. I’ll go mad if I can’t get this stuff out. I can’t talk to most people in my life about it because it’s just too much. I’ve never been able to feel safe talking about my mental struggles with my family or most other people.
If I really am depressed, then I think the worst part is that, if I feel anything poignantly, it’s the sadness. Otherwise, there’s emptiness. Sometimes, it’s a little of both combined with a lack of interest in things I usually like. You could almost sum up depression as the inability to find anything to look forward to. Like, tomorrow I have work. I don’t look forward to it. And I may not return from work having the energy to do the things I’d like to do. Is anything supposed to happen in my life or am I basically a hamster in a wheel? Running and running but going nowhere.
Because the thing is, I have goals and dreams and milestones I’d like to reach. Those things seem to vanish in the throes of depression. I feel like I’m in a wasteland. There’s nothing around except tumbleweeds and dust. Writing about my feelings has made me feel a little better, but the problems are still there. I don’t want to go to work. I just want to take an entire year off. But that’s not a luxury I have.
I will feel better someday. I know the feelings come and go. This too shall pass. But damn, I’m wounded right now, I’m lonely, and I just feel tired.
But I am glad I showed you this raw, unfiltered side of my pain. At least in the blogosphere, I have a home. If you relate to how I feel, just know you’re not alone and my heart goes out to you.