“The worst type of crying wasn’t the kind everyone could see–the wailing on street corners, the tearing at clothes. No, the worst kind happened when your soul wept and no matter what you did, there was no way to comfort it. A section withered and became a scar on the part of your soul that survived. For people like me and Echo, our souls contained more scar tissue than life.” ~ Katie McGarry, Pushing the Limits
Day 347. The days seem to get heavier and heavier.
I was fortunate last year that I was too busy at work to really feel the full blown effects of this pandemic, but the workload finally slowed down a bit during this first quarter of the year, and so the powers that be have been encouraging us to log offline early or use the vacation days that we did not use last year.
Idle time is dangerous for people with depression. I am least depressed when my days and nights are consumed with work, and when I have down time or “free time”, my thoughts go dark, and then I am caught in a black hole of despair and hopelessness from which I am certain there is no escape.
My daughter and I talk a lot, and that helps quite a bit, but she is at an age where she prefers the (virtual) company of her friends. I understand that. After all, I was once her age, so I try not to impose too much on her time.
I read a lot, though nothing new – mostly rereading the old books I have. There’s a certain comfort in knowing how the stories will end, and reading a story again can feel like visiting an old friend. There is comfort in familiarity and so whenever I am feeling particularly lonely, I pick up an old book and relive the parts of the stories that make me feel like home.
Binge watching Netflix can be entertaining at times, but I found that I can spend an entire day just sprawled out on my couch. I would feel a huge amount of guilt at the end of the day for not being productive, so I rarely watch television anymore.
The short of it is that I do not find anything pleasurable anymore. Sure, I have my occasional trysts with NP and FF, but even that feels empty.
I get up every morning, put on my work face, smile when I need to smile, perform my duties at work and at home, exercise fanatically every night – basically live my life like a high functioning human being – but I am dead inside.
I know this just is just a cycle, and soon, I will feel better again. But for now, all I can see in front of me is darkness, and during these times, I pray for nothing but everlasting sleep.
2 thoughts on “Scar Tissue”
Sending you hugs and light. Lots of them. I don’t think I have reread an old book yet. Guess I have to try that one day.
Hi Nova, you came to mind and I thought I’d look you up. Hopefully you remember me – it’s Veena from Gobsmacked over at blogspot. I have fallen off of blogging but I’m glad to see you’ve kept it up. If you would like to keep in touch via email, my email address is: email@example.com.
I understand the heaviness you speak of and the lack of joy, but I want to tell you – please keep going. Keep going forward. You matter. You do matter.