Dispatches from the World of Depression: I go a day without Lexapro, I want to disappear.

​One day. 

One goddamn day.

I forgot to refill my antidepressant medication yesterday so I had to  go without it for one day, and by 1:45-2:00pm, I stop to sit during my conference period, and the Wave crashes over me, into me, covering me, saturating me with such a weight of zombie-like fatigue, a weariness of the soul that grates across the top of my epidermis and soaks itself deep all the way into my marrow.

My shoulders have lost the strength to fight gravity, so I give in to a slumpy posture. It takes quite a bit to stiffen my neck enough to keep my head up. Every step I take I feels ten times heavier, ten times slower. The muscles in my mouth and cheeks have become so heavy that even the thought of a smile leaves me physically exhausted. It’s all become just too much. My mental cognition is working slower. The inside of my forehead feels like it had been dragged across an office carpet floor. I’m cumbersome.

I wanted to stay and check papers, but I knew I’d just sit there, lamely staring at everything, accomplishing nothing. And I’m still on my ADHD medication. 

WHAT I’m feeling really has nothing to do with me coming off the medication more than it does with how I always felt before, when the depression cloud sets in.

Even as I type this, I can’t keep my eyes open, but I want to finish this and post it now so those of you who just don’t “get” depression can begin to understand what it is, what it feels like.

It feels like nothing. 

It feels like the absence of feeling.

Just numbness.

It’s literally taking all my energy just to type this out on my damn phone. All my body wants to do is lay limply on the bed and stare into space until sleep takes me.

And my depression is mild. I can trudge through the day. I can make it till I get home. Sometimes I’d feel frustrated or angry. But rarely does sadness come into the picture.

I’m not sad wishing I were happy.

I’m just existing and trying not to be.

And the level of my depression is a lazy Sunday compared to Lindsey’s – my ex-girlfriend’s – severe depression, where she could be bed-ridden for days, without the energy or the will to even get up to eat. And she isn’t the only one. I know so many poor, but brave, beautiful souls with the same level of crippling depression, who try to work, go to school, without the access to medication that I have.

Depression sucks.

Depression isn’t sadness.

Depression is real.

Read up on it, be sensitive to others about.

No one would make this up. No one is that lazy.

Maybe that person that you insult all the time by calling him or her lazy, actually has depression. 

Maybe that person feels this way and doesn’t understand why. 

Maybe if that person went to a psychiatrist and got diagnosed, and got treated, maybe that person could begin to function. Maybe that person can lead a normal life. 

Maybe they can begin to feel.

Maybe, for just one moment, they can feel what is to be happy.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I can’t fight this anymore. 

Time to be nothing for a while.

Author: marcwritesmoorewords

Wordsmith, Poet, Drummer, Foodie. Fantasy geek. Movie lover. Theater fan. Lover of good drink, great conversation and women who enjoy both. Striving for balance and clarity and humor as I manage my 5th grade students, my ADHD, my Major Depression, and my recently-widowed mother.

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