I was hit last night. I didn’t know where it came from or the cause but it was a blow that shook me. I’m still shaking.
I can’t understand why depression seems to creep in and take such an oppressive hold, at times that seem so incongruously wrong. It feels like years worth of building myself up has crumbled down today and it has left me desperate. Desperate for an air I can breathe back in to my usual full of life mind and body. I’m running on discouraged fumes today.
I am reaching for a layer of strength so that I can mother my children through this somber day. My arsenal for hiding my broken pieces is running frustratingly low. The art of distraction, for both them and myself, is vital today. I need room to decipher how to react to them when I feel like this. It’s difficult to recognize. It’s hazy at best.
Just as the energy to find humor has completely left me today, so has my relationship to any familiar emotion. I am indifferent to all of it. Love is there. I can feel it. I just can’t access it.
This is my truth. I have these days. I have variations of these days. I have no way of knowing when this particular occurrence will lift or at least ease. My body usually recognizes the break before my mind does. I’ll be in motion again. I’ll move forward and up word in thought. My brain will react less critically.
Time is the only prescription that works. Time and the will and ability to connect my flesh to the moment.