October 16, 2019
About 1:30, right after I eat lunch, I tire and, without energy, sadness threatens to, just threatens to – what? What? Everyday this happens. Each time it surprises me. The day started off so well. I worked. Maybe, I played with my kid or went to the gym. I live and living steals the energy I need to keep sadness imprisoned in my mind. I run home and hide on the internet. I need to distract my attention, otherwise something bad will happen. I shirk all responsibilities. Sometime later, I ask, is this depression? Anxiety? Mental illness?
“I’m sorry, I just felt a bit crazy.”
If I can work, it helps to defer the feeling to the evening. Compress might be a better verb than defer. Guys like me used to explode when they got home; I don’t say much more than a muttered apology, or, I’m doing my best. I try. I try to be present: with my partner and daughter and once the little one is latched to the boob and falling asleep, I retreat to my office and watch YouTube videos until my body stops vibrating and I don’t want to scream and the threat disappears.
It took only two paragraphs to empty myself.
