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Right now, it’s better than feeling nothing
There was a time, when I was drowning in bipolar depression and a pharmaceutical cocktail, that I felt nothing. No sadness, no joy. Just blankness.
An all encompassing grayness had sniffed out my emotions, leaving me unable to engage with my family or do much of anything. Thankfully, I fought my way through, and I’ve been blessed to see things I didn’t think I would — two of my sons graduating from high school, my fortieth birthday, and more.
And yet, a kind of melancholy permanently hangs over me. I’m able to laugh, smile, and socialize, and I think most people would say I’m outgoing and fun. I get out of bed every day and accomplish things, but this sort of grayness constantly nips at me, reminding me that it can consume me again.
It says, “I can take away your life again.”
If I’m honest, I’m more often sad than not — not quite depressed, but my mood straddles the gulf between it and sadness. I struggle with letting myself feel prolonged happiness. I know that sounds strange, but when I’m happy, I fear it will slip away. Still, I embrace the joy-filled moments, but then I look around and realize that no matter how happy I am, everything changes. It will all go away; but the grayness, it’s always there, waiting.
