I had a full blown meltdown tonight, which I can only describe as the depression cup overflowing.
My hapless boyfriend sat there and patiently listened to me as I cried about my life, my age, my worries and my lack of passion for anything, like the spoiled North American I am.
I’ve tried to seek help before but the therapists I’ve seen have flaked. Two of the last ones missed appointments and never called me back, even after I left messages. I wish I were joking. Any other more serious (non work related/offered) services have a long waiting list. I know; I work in the mental healthcare system. I don’t believe in that sort of help at all anymore.
My malaise grows deeper and darker with every passing year and I’m sort of powerless to stop it… If only because I don’t see it as a negative delusion; I see it as truth.
Still; I’ll keep trying to see purpose in the menial every day. It takes all of my energy. I have to, there’s nothing else I can do. At least, on the positive side, while I do not rely on him for my happiness (hah) I know that there is someone there who loves me more than I love me. It’s the most positive knowledge in my life, whether it lasts or not. He’s wonderful. He didn’t say very much as my insides turned outwards, but what he did say was more useful than what any therapist had ever said to me. He said to keep a depression sketch journal; and whenever I feel this way, to sketch something. Anything, related or not. And if this beast will never be tamed, it will at least serve a purpose.
Because by god does the darkness inspire. Maybe that’s why it lives here; why I’ve never been able to banish it.