There are many depression checklists in the world. Most include questions about sleeping, negative thoughts, life events, motivation, joy. My personal depression checklist should start with this: do I care if objects are out of place?
I brought home something last week, can’t remember what, took it out of a black plastic bag, crumpled up the bag and set it on the end table next to the couch. I probably had some reason for that, but I have no idea what it was. And there the bag sat. Every time I walked past it, I thought I should get rid of it. Recycle it, throw it away, fold it up for re-use — lots of options, but definitely something other than let it sit on the end table indefinitely.
Instead, there it sat. One day, then the next, then a couple more, while the weather was gloomy and oppressive, and the demands of the house (paint me! trim my trees! take out the garbage!) felt like a mountain too overwhelming to climb, and mostly, I just wanted to sleep or read or stare into space while pretending to either sleep or read. Well, wanted is the wrong word. I didn’t really want anything at all. Except maybe for the endless churning wheel of time to just let me off for a little break.
Yesterday, I saw the bag sitting on the table and without even thinking much about it, grabbed it and got rid of it. And then I put the headphones that had been hiding underneath it away. While I was at it, I straightened up the shelves, moved some dirty clothes into the right laundry baskets, decided to do a load of laundry, and hey, maybe fold some of the clothes that had been sitting around since last week’s load of laundry. And then, finally, I realized — I feel okay again. After really not feeling okay for several days.
I don’t know why I dropped into the pit or why I came out of it so quickly. At most, that was ten days or so of depression. But I also don’t know why I couldn’t recognize it as that while I was experiencing it. Note to self: tired, unproductive, gloomy, unwilling to make a smidgen of effort to live in a neater space = depression.
Today, though, the sun shone. I walked the dog and admired flowers (azaleas, I think, but I could be making that up) and felt summer in the air. My characters stirred in my brain and maybe even started chatting. And it’s March, which means February — almost always the worst month of the year for me — won’t be back for another year. Fingers crossed that the same is true for the part of me that lets empty plastic bags sit on end tables for days on end.
Great post. Sometimes it’s hard to recognize that as depression, especially when I’m in it. Why it’s so easy to recognize in others but denied to ourselves, is a riddle I doubt I will ever solve.
Me neither! Also, I’d love to understand why in other people, I understand that it’s an illness, bio-chemical, often almost akin to a bad virus, but in me, it’s a character flaw, weakness, a sign that I’m… well, all the mean thing I say to myself when I’m depressed. It’s that “depression lies” thing again.
Days without sunshine, and there are a lot of them here, definitely alter my mood in negative ways. I’m glad Feb is over, too. Here they are saying it was the second coldest Feb since they have been recording the weather. Right now the ground is covered with a 2 or 3 inch layer of sleet which is covered by a 3 or 4 inch layer of snow. Luckily I don’t have to go anywhere until Saturday morning.
Weather be damned, though, I’m writing again.
The Bloggess always says – depression lies. I really think that’s true.
Glad you are feeling more yourself now.
I’ve known for a long time that I can’t live without sunshine. A lack of Vitamin D can cause depression and for me, the pills just don’t cut it. I’m sorry to hear your weather is so terrible, but glad you’re writing again!