I am comfortable and feel safer within the boundaries of my own loneliness.
I am having a hard time dealing with my depression. I want nothing more than to wake up, even one morning and think “What a beautiful day”. I just wish I wasn’t so afraid.
I have been sleeping in so late everyday that by the time I wake up my son is ready for lunch and just wants me to play with him. This just makes me feel even worse. Fatigued and groggy, I drag myself to the coffee pot, I make myself one cup, light a cigarette, and start thinking about what I can make for lunch. I foresee the whole process and am overwhelmed with the dreadful thought of pulling things out, dirtying more dishes, and the trail of crumbs I will need to vacuum later. I realize I still have a sink full of dishes from dinner last night and the counters are a mess. I think about the long process of doing the dishes, drying, putting away, wiping down the counters, which then means I will have to sweep and mop the kitchen. All the sudden I have an urge to use the bathroom. As I sit down and look around, I see my husband body hair all over the sink and the ring in the bathtub. The wash rags mean laundry, the scum means I need to use soft scrub, which will soak into my fingers and will be all I can taste and smell for hours.
At this point, I just want to make him a sandwich and jump back into bed as fast as I can. I want to pull the covers over my head and just be left alone. But it’s almost 3 o’ clock in the afternoon. I imagine all those who have been up since 6am, went to work, earn a day’s wage, going to pick up the kids, making their family dinner, cleaning it, bathing their children, even reading them a book, and kissing them goodnight.
I wonder why I can not seem to muster the strength to get through the day.