Days Like This

The black hole is sucking away at my life on days like this.

I feel absolutely terrible today. Listless. Empty. Incomplete. Like there’s a big hole in my chest and no matter what gets sucked in it’s never full.

I feel like giving up.

As I look around my life, I simply want to check out. It’s easy to relate to Elijah hiding under a shrub in the desert, “it’s ok for me to die.” Nothing is OK.

It’s been quite a while since I’ve felt this bad. There have been challenging days the past few months, sure, but nothing that makes me retreat to my room with no plan other than to lay in the dark until I muster up some sort of strength to do some sort of thing for some sort of reason.

That’s why I’m here, writing. I figured I might as well find some amount of production in mulling through this muck.

It’s truly muck, too. This feeling is icky. It’s like the gunk at the bottom of the sink after washing the dishes in a restaurant. Looking down, you don’t want to touch it despite the fact you’ve been washing it off the dishes all night. You’re elbow deep in this stuff already, but somehow looking at it makes you recoil.

Earlier today I had a great run, and was semi-productive for work. It was a decent day, even though I wasn’t feeling it. At some point things changed for me. I’m not sure where the point of being overwhelmed is, but I crossed it at top speed today.

Now, I lay in bed typing a blog post on my phone, scrambling to consider any wisdom, knowledge, or truth that may come from the depth of pain, fear, and nervousness sucking away at all the things in my life.

The strange thing about depression is that you can’t actually think properly. So while I want to type something helpful, I’m afraid this will only be like an artist who decided to paint while high or drunk; unique, interesting and thought-provoking but utterly without clear point or thesis.

My mind continues to wander, discipline eludes me. My heart is not nervous. My whole body seeming to be anxious. Feet shaking. Hands turning numb. Face tightening.

I try to tell myself the truth, “everything is alright. Tomorrow is a new day.” 

The black hole in my chest is sucking away on days like this.

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