Bad Day

It's a bad day.

Nothing is particularly going wrong.

It's just a bad day.

I knew it from the moment I woke up and felt that familiar ache in my body. The heaviness in my limbs. The numbing, yet all-consuming, sadness. The fog that has dimmed my brain to barely functioning.

I can't think clearly. I can barely move. But I still have to shove myself forward. I had to go get groceries today. I needed stuff for dinner. Can't let Al go hungry.

So I got myself through a shower. I made myself put clothes on, even though every move makes my body hurt more.

Yeah, that's something that doesn't get mentioned a lot, does it? The physical pain that goes along with depression. The throbbing, aching pain that has no cause other than your stupid brain telling you that it hurts. If you put the wrong article of clothing on, your skin hurts. Anything other than the softest material and you want to scream in agony. Everything is too tight. It hurts to breathe.

Grandma had to sit outside and wait for me. Because I was paralyzed by indecision over what clothing I could put on that would allow me to be a semi-functional human being. I got in the car and drove us to the store. It gave me something to focus on, the driving. I could push back the monster for a little bit.

Trying to navigate around the store, however, was a nightmare. I had a list of things that I needed, figuring I could just focus on that and get through it. But in the way that grandparents can be, we ended up walking around the whole store, grandma asking if I needed this and that. And before I knew it, it was a whole cart of groceries. Trying to make decisions about what I should buy, what we really needed, trying to think of future meals, even though the thought of food was making me nauseous. It was overwhelming and kicking my anxiety into overdrive.

I was also trying to text John and Jamie through all this, which made the overall situation worse. I was trying to keep myself from collapsing into a screaming, crying heap in the middle of the store. Instead of relief and distraction, I ended up getting upset and frustrated because I wasn't able to articulate what I needed from them. And it felt like they were just giving me empty platitudes in return. So I shut down on them, I couldn't handle it. I couldn't explain myself. And I didn't want to fuck up my relationships further than they seem to be.

We made it back to the car and I loaded up the groceries. My guilt had skyrocketed because grandma slipped me money to help pay for everything. I felt like a failure. I'm nearly 30. I should be able to take care of myself and my family. But I can't. And what's going to happen when they're gone?

Grandma needed to use the bathroom and I needed something to eat. I didn't think I'd be able to make food for myself as soon as I got home, but I knew that I had to eat something. So we stopped at Wendy's. I just brought it home because I couldn't handle being outside the house any longer. My entire body was fraught with tension. My mind started vividly playing scenarios in which my grandparents were gone. It took everything in my to not just break down crying on the drive back.

I brought everything in and thanked grandma in what I'm sure sounded like an ungrateful voice. But I was physically incapable of putting mch expression into anything.

I've been home for over an hour. I'm still wearing my soaking wet clothes. The weather decided to reflect my mood today and has just been pouring down rain. And I can't seem to find the energy to bother to take them off. What's the point?

I choked down my food. And for the first time in quite a while, felt like wanting to make myself throw it all back up. Because my anxiety never stops and when it teams up with my depression, anything that I try to eat makes me feel sick.

I'm writing this to try and get past the revulsion. I'm trying to tell myself that it will be okay. That I can handle the ginormous load of dishes that I'll have to fight through to make dinner. That I can actually make dinner without vomiting. That I can help Alex with her homework. That I can get through a gaming date with Jamie without getting so frustrated and overwhelmed that I quit. Because John won't be home tonight. It's game night at work. And at least Jamie is a comforting voice.

I'm alone. I have to get through this alone. I need someone to just lay here and hold me and let me just get the sadness out. But I can't have that right now. So I have to fight for myself. And that seems like an insurmountable mountain right now.

There's no happy ending to this post. No witty little quip to shine a little light of hope. I know I'll get through this and eventually, my mood will stabilize. But this will come back again and again. Even with all the therapy or meds in the world, there is no cure for mental illness. There is only management. You don't get to say you beat it, or won against it. You can only survive.

It's a bad day.