I know it’s not novel to write about depression. I’m aware that it’s one of those maladies that can pop up unannounced and stick around for far too long. The opposite of depression is taking action, and when you feel weighed down by every crippling aspect of your life it’s impossible to move.
Sometimes I can’t stand up from my bed to get a glass of water. I know the proverbial steps that need to be taken, but I don’t accomplish the goal. I simply remain propped against some pillows and continue to scroll through the website of that day’s/night’s choice and try to ignore my dehydration.
The worse is when I hear Leela chirping or rolling on her back, exposing herself for tummy rubs, but I can’t remove myself from the bed. I love my kitty–I can’t stand it when she wants attention and I don’t give it to her when I’m readily available. What’s more infuriating is that I’m not busy or at work doing something “real,” I’m laying in bed lacking the motivation to move. And what makes matters worse is that having her with me is sometimes the only thing that can make me smile, so how can I blatantly turn my back to her?
She’s the neediest little kitty ever and I adore her for that. I love feeling needed. I don’t want to make her feel unwanted because I don’t want to get up and walk five feet over to her platform so I can rub her belly and lose myself in the melodic trill of her purr.
Why, if I want to so badly, is it so hard for me to just snap myself out of it and move forward?
Depression sucks you in and prevents you from pulling yourself out. I’ve never had upper body strength in my life–so what makes me think that I could pull my way out of something this challenging and steep now? I need to strengthen and condition my muscles to climb out of the pit, but things like this are always easier said than done.
faux so much 