True Blues

"Laugh and the world laughs with you; weep and you weep alone; for this sad old earth must borrow its mirth, but has trouble enough of its own." -- Ella Wheeler

I'm feeling down. I'm at a loss for words at all the wrong times; times when people wish I'd be sharing; times when I need to get things done; times when I just want out of my head for a second to rest.

Some nights I find myself gazing up into the dark sky, searching for an escape, wondering when I stopped believing that simply wishing on stars could magically make everything perfect.

It's the seasonal blues that always come on around this time of year. It doesn't feel quite as bad as it has in the past (yet), but it's still that all too familiar pain of depression in hyper drive.

The worst part of this kind of depression is when well-meaning friends ask "Why?" There is no why to this feeling. No reason for the sudden flood of tears as I'm driving my car down the road. No discernible cause for the complete exhaustion that plagues me throughout the day. No purpose to the self-imposed isolation that traps me inside myself. No one can fix it, so I reject all the kind intentioned offers of those around me until they become tired of trying without response and I instead reach out to the ones who caused me the most pain in their time.

It's a frustrating cycle that I can't seem to break. It's like I'm drawn to the exquisite pain of the shattered hopes and broken dreams to escape the emptiness my current situations leaves me feeling. It's the emotional equivalent to cutting. Bleeding my heart just to make sure it still feels something, anything, and deepening the scars that probably would have healed over time if I could have just left them alone.

"See that scar there? Yeah, I got that one in college. Look how far it runs. And that one there, the one that has the look of a wound only beginning to heal? Yeah, that one runs so deep that it's taken YEARS to start healing. Oh, check out my newest one. It's roughly scabbed over, but that's easy enough to tear off. Watch how quickly I can make it bleed again, with the simple touch of the send button...."

I wish I could talk about what's going on, but I'm not sure where to speak up. My family wants to send me back to a counselor, but I'm resisting. I just don't see how paying someone to tell me that everything that goes through my brain is wrong, wrong, wrong can be helpful. I've already got people in my life who can do that and they don't cost me money I don't have to spend. Besides, I never know what to say anyway. Like I said, no one can fix it and I don't know for sure that many people can truly understand it.

So I'm left to struggle inside myself with this enemy I don't understand and fear I won't be able to beat again....