The Gray Days

It’s been a rough week and a half. So many things beating me down and my mood is so low. Self-doubt is at an all time high and my self-worth is quite low. I have no energy to do anything and I draw no contentment from my usual go-to pleasures. I am making poor decisions, nothing major, but just simple daily decisions I can’t seem to get right. My living room is a minefield of cat toys and socks and I don’t care. Sleep is sketchy, I don’t care what I eat or when I eat (it’s an all or nothing situation), and even my OCD is muted (except for locking the front door, that’s at a high). Everything is actually muted. Colors, sounds, feelings, ambition, even sight. All just halfway there.

Welcome to my gray days.

I’ve actually been trying to write this for three or four days but as I said, everything is muted. Finding the right words is such a chore in writing this blog. And then that little voice inside of me tells me it’s stupid to write about the gray days, that no one gives a shit. I don’t need that little voice to remind me of that; I already know that. The gray days are steeped in that belief and it really is a true one at that. I haven’t heard from my family since 8/28. I can be silent in person or online and it’s a rarity if anyone ever notices anymore. It’s amazing how invisible I can be. I’ve said it before but invisibility is my unwanted super power.

Even my rabbi dismissed me when I shared how I was feeling after he asked off handedly how I was as he gathered his materials for class. (I often answer that question honestly which throws people off sometimes.) “You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.” Really? If I had this figured out would I still be having these stretches?

They started about ten days. It was like the seeping of cold water through a sieve with tiny holes. It is always physical when they start; a slow, heaviness descends and this time it was cold. Actually, it usually is cold. I can never get warm enough when they hit. It’s odd. I have so much fat on me but I think it actually keeps the coldness in and my Reynaud’s is always bad. Even sitting on my hands with my fat ass won’t warm them up and when I go to bed at night it’s not uncommon for me to stick my feet on my heating pad to warm them up enough so I could at least make an attempt at sleep.

I felt them coming but there was nothing I could do to stop them. Even the prospect of a Daughtry concert in the future hasn’t helped. All that’s done is added to my self-doubt and worry. It’s a December show that I’m travelling to so I have to worry about weather. Driving long distances is always hit and miss for me too. I get anxious when I drive by myself. What if I have a flat tire? I can’t afford AAA but is that fancy button in my car I can press for help any cheaper? Should I spend the minimal money this would involve? My tolerance to loud noises has been bad lately and although I desperately need to enjoy a good Daughtry show, what if I can’t handle the volume? I never know how much anxiety I’m going to have around people and what if I’m a dud? I don’t want to bring my Daughtry friends down.

And then there’s the biggest question of them all. Do I even deserve this much needed, happy possibility?

A ticket will be bought. The land of Daughtry is my safe harbor. I need this. That three word sentence is a huge understatement but at the same time, says all that needs to be said.

This is the longest stretch of gray days that I’ve ever had. Usually they only last three or four days and they’re gone just as quick as they came. The timing of this stretch does not have me anticipating them leaving for another week or more. This time of year is always bad for me.

The gray days scare me and not for the reason you think. My suicide attempt did not occur on a gray day; that was just the day I lost all hope. No, the gray days scare me because I feel so helpless during them. I want to shoo the grayness away but I don’t know how nor do I have the energy. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t enjoy the gray days. I DON’T WANT THEM. What a lot of people don’t understand is that I just can’t snap out of them. I know my gray days are manifested by my depression and a lot of people just don’t understand depression very well. Depression is not just feeling sad.

I’m not an expert on depression; these are only my observations based on my own experiences with it.

Depression can’t be appeased simply. Mine is sadly something that needs to be ridden out. My depression is caused by childhood events and deep, emotional roots took hold within my soul from those events. It’s almost like a symbiotic relationship because those roots are part of my soul and made me who I am today. They cannot be separated easily and maybe not even at all. On the good days, my depression and I are fifty-fifty. On the gray days, there is no equality. I’m not a fan of depression medicine. I was revolved quickly through so many different medications that it ultimately led to my suicide attempt. I honestly didn’t know what I was doing. Once I realized that, I stopped all the medication. I need to learn to live with what happened and medication can’t do that. My head is clearer now but yes, I still have the depression.

Medication cannot treat the soul, cannot erase the memories and that’s where my depression lies. The way to treat my depression is learning to live with what happened and that is very hard for me. Having a strong and solid support system would probably help but that is something I don’t have yet. Perhaps one day all those support pieces will fall into place but until then, I battle these gray days alone. That’s not right, actually. I’m not entirely alone. I’ve noticed that with this gray stretch my cats have been cuddlier, purr more, and Joey brings me toys all the time so I can play with him. It actually does help to part the gray a little bit until it surges again.

I cannot wait until this long stretch is over.