Atay's Journal

Depression is quite ridiculous.  It's got to be the strangest mental health issue.  I have it, I live it, I am it and I am confounded. 

I somehow got out of bed and got my depressed dog down to the beach on a beautiful Indian Summer September day.  It was about the third week of my off-the-charts nervous breakdown depression.  It's a crisis.  I looked at the beautiful ocean and, upstairs, I knew it was beautiful.  I knew it was clean green, powerful and a stone's throw away.  But I didn't really like it.  I didn't sense it's beauty.  I knew I was supposed to, and then there was a new wave of pain, of realizing something this obvious and easy is so out of reach for me at times. 

That was the same day I found out I didn't have cervical cancer.  The depression from that one is still riding on top of the basic "I'm no good" belief type depression.  I wanted to die.  And, then yet, since I really can't die, since I'm my daughter's (10yrs) only living parent, I don't really have that option.  So, having the cancer would MAKE me see and breathe and touch and feel again.  I would be able to get up and see my daughter's homework.  I would be out of bed when she came home from school.  I'd talk to her.  I'd be sure a moment wouldn't go by unfilled since the moments were being counted down by disease.  And, finally, I would love her.  Which would mean, really, I would love me.  That's what cancer would do for me.  And, yes, I'm crazed.  I'm so hungry for some motivation to live.  "Isn't it enough, your beautiful daughter?  Your a mom!  You are bright and funny.  You have a roof over your head and family to help you." 

But I hurt so badly. 

So, instead of reaching for the moon today (getting the house clean), I am going to take care of me, as if I were helping a friend.  I would (will) suggest:

1.  Write

2.  Cry

3.  Eat healthy foods

4.  Drink water

5.  Sing

And, isn't it so amazing, all I want to do is go hard and heavy.  Clean, run, do something frantic.  But, what is stopping me is the body pain.  The depression is telling me to S-T-O-P.  And, really, I'm a little mad at that, and a little relieved.  So, today I put progress on my goal.  I am going to be conscious of slowing down, and drinking water.

Dear Daughter,

One day when you come home from school, I'm going to be a mommy.  I will say, "Sara, it's Tuesday, we make a craft or work on a project together for an hour every Tuesday." 

One day when you come home from school and you come and hug me and tell me you love me, my body won't be stiff and I won't falsely say that I love you too.

One day when I wake you up to go to school I won't yell that you are late.  I will kiss you and tell you what kind of weather we have and say, "come down when you are dressed and we'll have breakfast."

One day when I wake you up to go to school I will not go back to bed but stay up and watch you brush your hair and look at yourself in the mirror.

 Today, already, I want this so badly.  And, for all of that I am so confused.  And for all of that, I am so very, very sorry.