I am writing this after my dear friend, The Musical Poet, emailed me to make sure I was alright after not hearing from me all week. I thank you, and I certainly didn’t mean to worry you, but maybe this will help you understand. Please forgive me if I don’t make sense. The tears are already flowing.
One of the most frustrating aspects of my depression is that I go through days, sometimes weeks in a row in which I don’t want to do anything at all; no writing, no quilting, and definitely no working. My motivation for anything just goes down the tubes. It is even difficult for me to be sitting here, writing this, but I know I need to. A big reason I write is to try to open up and release the things that hurt me, to try to heal. One of the hardest things for me to do, especially after all these years of bottling it all up inside. There was only one person I felt comfortable talking to about these things, but with his recent passing, I feel as though I am completely alone.
I know I have other friends, those who offer their ears or shoulder, but I just wouldn’t know just where to begin. How do I explain to someone else just what I’ve been through and how it feels? Where my heart is and why? There are just so many aspects to it, I don’t know if anyone else would understand. Not the way my friend of 30 years would anyway.
There were days I’d feel worse, and although I didn’t say anything, he knew. He would text or call me and the first words from him were, “what’s wrong, honey? I know you’re hurting, tell me about it. Talk to me.” I’d open up to say something, and all I could do was break down into tears. No matter how hard I tried not to. There was no hiding it.
As I write this now, I am feeling very unmotivated, very out of realm. All I want to do is curl up in my cave and cry myself to sleep. My heart, she feels very heavy, as though a weight is sitting on top of her.
How long will this last? I just don’t know. I can’t go on further. Damn it, why does this have to be so hard?