Hi beasties!

I’m sad. There is just no way around it. I am in the sads. I did my best to push through and fight it. To distract myself and hope to steer clear of them this time. Hoped if I saw them first, they wouldn’t see me. But they got me anyway. So there it is. I’m sad. I’m sad and I hate it. It’s also a little scary this time.

“I don’t want to be here.” That is the thought that filled my head. I don’t feel that way – have never felt that way, but I thought that way. That’s what scared me. Scares me.

Depression isn’t a linear journey with a happy destination. You don’t just go to the doctor, say “I’m lost. I’ve got the big sads, my guy. Help me find the smiles.”, get a pill bottle full of happy, and TADA – you’ve reached your arrival. Your brain has been fixed.

No.

Not exactly. Actually, not even close. Not just “not even close”, but nothing like that. My cracked brain may get glued back together every now and again, but eventually the glue that holds it together weakens and then the sads seep through those same cracks again. Mental Crack. Mental Glue. Mentally Repeat. It is exhausting, but’s that’s just the way it is. I get it. But I still hate it. I hate that I can’t stop it even though I know what’s coming. Sometimes distracting myself from the inevitable helps. But it’s still inevitable. Inevitable and sucky. Even though I recognize the path I’m on, I can’t change direction because no matter what detour I take, I’ll end up in the same place. All roads lead to the sads. I don’t want to be here.

Sads: Pit Stop or stop that’s the pits?

I know I won’t stay. I just don’t know how long it’ll take to leave. Is it a pit stop? Am I staying a while? I just don’t know. But, how do keep ending up here? Why can’t I change direction? Although I may not like the route, it’s familiar and comfortable, ya know? The dark clouds hovering over that scraggly scenery are like home; it’s know it’s leading anywhere good, but it’s still okay because I know this route. This is the way. I know where I am. I’m probably not supposed to be here, but this is the path I know. I know the main road, the side roads… the views are … I don’t know… almost…. pretty? At least I know where I am. It’s comforting – like a toxically warm hug. Like a mental McDonald’s? It’s not good for me, but it’s so good… so easy. Try their Un-Happy Meal. It’s delightful.

Every time I find myself in the sads, I don’t know how long how long the visit will be. Will it be like a weekend getaway from the happy? Or am I on a full-on sabbatical from that place and staying a while? Yeah, I never know. I know it’s my trip and all, but truly, I am just along for the ride.

Still.

I don’t want to be here.

Passenger Princess

Sometimes it’s just too much effort to stay on route to the Happys. As much as I love that drive and the backdrop that comes along with it – it is so much work. I’m in charge of that journey like – all the time. This human gets tired of being in charge of the itinerary. The Sads are pre-programmed into my mental maps. Cruise control takes over and I go on auto pilot – my brain is basically an evil EV at times. Or like one of those tour buses. Except all the pit stops suck. But at least I’m not in charge. I get so tired of being in charge.

That’s actually one of the first clues I’m about to change directions; I’m tired. Staying in the Happys takes effort for me. Effort takes energy and strength. I can’t stay in charge of me all the time, no matter how much I’d like to. I’m just not always strong enough for that.  Why do I always have to be in charge of me?!

If I let the Sads Maps take over and lead the way, I get some sort of break and just get to be the passenger princess along for the ride. I can’t really control where we’re going, but I got a killer playlist I get to lip sync to. So, there’s that.

Still. I don’t want to be here. 

I don’t like not being in the Happys.

I’m not tired of staying in the Happys, I get tired of how hard it is to stay there. But I love the Happys. I just love being there. Usually. But then it gets too hard. Just so hard.

I want to stay. I truly do. And I think I’m good. Until I’m not.

I never want to leave, but there are signs the autopilot will take me away. I get thoughts. Thoughts I don’t feel. Thoughts that aren’t mine, but they still are. It’s scary. It’s scary to have that take over when you think you’re doing pretty well in the the Happys.

“I don’t want to be here.” That is a terrifying thought to have sneak into your brain. Especially when it’s not a part of your heart.

I thought I was content in the Happys, even though it was tiring work to stay there. My brain thought differently.

I won’t be here long. (Hopefully)

Despite how comfortable I am here, I don’t like it. No matter how easy it is or how much I know this route, this path, this place… I still want to change direction. I don’t want to stay. This is not where I belong. I know this and I work at getting away from the sads.

Dopamine doesn’t grow on trees, you know. Serotonin is apparently out of season.

I don’t want to be here, but I DO want to be here. 

 

If you think you don’t want to be here, there’s help call or text: 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline

Can I distract you with some Mormon messiness?