Depression Redux

This may not be quite aptly titled. It wasn't like: depression hit once, and here it is again.

Depression has never left, however long it's been since I've written about it.

A week or so ago, it hit harder than in a while. RJ suggested that i take St. John's Wort, which seems to "life the weight off [his] chest", as he puts it.

I did. And i felt better. Couldn't be sure if it was circumstantial. After all, there was no control group or placebo.

This morning, as soon as i felt the onset of depression, i popped one. I didn't wind up descending into a really dark place, but that darkness is there.

Maybe this holistic remedy is like Ecstasy. The first time blows your mind. Subsequent encounters will never even come close.

I theorize that there is always a moment from which i "spiral down" (if i allow myself), as the psychotherapists say. Sometimes i can't quite pinpoint that moment.

It's often a mix-bag of events.

I was reading. I've mentioned how Sunday has become my reading day, and i've found bliss in that. Today i seemed to be reminded of how other people have lives and are outside living them. I have none, outside or not.

A non-fiction article by Brooke Rinehart in The New York Times which mentioned "fantasizing about accidental deaths (of self)" resonated with me. I was fighting back tears before i knew it.

Estrangement from my brother and his has, of course, not helped. In fact it's been plaguing me, turning each day a worse shade of desperation than the previous.

Denisse has her own issues to deal with. Between the puppy and the beau, she's one busy woman.

Sherry, now unemployed, has to watch her spending. As should i, really.

I've developed a phobia of driving on freeways, and even on surface streets i feel comfortable only with familiar routes, and anything farther than 20 minutes away is touch-and-go. I know it's an irrational fear, but the physical symptoms are literally paralyzing. Having had such debilitating episodes only feeds the paranoia. Depression stems from this two ways: (1) The feeling of isolation and helplessness. (2) The depreciation of self-worth for having had this mental condition aggravated to this ridiculous point.

Then, of course, the mother lode. (Pun intended.)

Last week, my mother expressed concern over my relationship with my brother and the fam, as i call them. It was very painful to respond immediately. So i promised a full reply in a few days (i named the specific foreseen day because I knew what would be occupying my time in the course of the next few days). My mother was joyous about my prompt response. In the next two days there was chit chat; i replied to that. Again she expressed in ernest her anticipation of receiving my promised long letter.

Over the next two days, as the deadline drew near, i literally lost sleep over this, drafting the important letter in my head, choosing my words carefully so as to explain the situation succinctly without causing her heartache. Cuz Lord knows i always manage to do one of two things: hurt her feelings, or make her worry. Or both.

So came Tuesday, and the self-appointed good daughter that was i hit "Send".

That was five days ago.

Typical of humans perhaps. When they want something from you, it's "Chop chop!" Once you've filled their needs, not a peep from them.

I guess my mother is human. Why would i expect otherwise?