Depression is a lying hag. Mine plays out in anger and anxiety most of the time, but every so often, I hit a spell where I feel like I have absolutely no friends and need 18 naps a day. In these times, I forget things. Like making dinner. I am flaky. I back my Jeep into the side of the house. I eat too much sugar.
Nobody in my house likes these spells. Except for the sugar part. The kids don’t mind that so much.
If I stop and consider things logically, I realize that I do have friends. I remember that I have worth and talent. It’s a mental exercise to go through and remind myself of people who love me and reasons I matter. The Zoloft helps with the mental exercise.
All summer has felt like I’ve had to consciously remind myself that I’m not just in the way of the universe. It’s a vicious cycle too. I remind myself in the morning, and then by noon, I’ve yelled at the boys, forgotten to go to karate, eaten six cookies, and cried over nothing. By dinner time, I’m so busy reminding myself that I need to order pizza if we are going to eat by a decent hour.
So I try. I keep my head above water. I don’t drink. I am deliberate in my thoughts.
Then, just when I think it’s not going to be enough, a friend comes out of nowhere with this painting that she made. For me.
This with pigtails, music, and chickens. This that says, “Somebody has been thinking about you,” and “Somebody loves you.” Not just somebody, either. Somebody that I think is awesome and amazing.
A dear friend.
It will be hanging where I can see it often. Not just because I love it, but because it will remind me to stop relying completely on my own deliberate thinking. There are people out there who know just what I need. I just have to let them know when I need it.