I Live in the Shadow of Depression

I think one of the worst things I’ve done is to use my( kind of) real name on this blog. I have friends and family, madly reading away, many of them judging. And as I am a thinking feeling individual, who really doesn’t want my parents to hurt for any reason, now I wish I’d used a pseudonym. Because I want to be honest here. I want to be safe here. And yet I find myself censoring my words and trying to keep everything pretty and middle of the road, so you won’t feel the need to discuss it with my mother, who then phones me embarrassed because you’ve given her your unwanted opinion on my writing. So this is for you: If you feel in the least sensitive, don’t read it anymore. If you feel like you could do better, start your own blog. If you think I am only writing this for you, think again. And if you feel the need to comment to someone, comment to me, not my mother. Or fuck off. I really don’t care. And if you think I’m not doing your name justice, no one knows we’re related, and again, fuck off. You don’t own it.

This is mine. I own these words. This is my knowledge. This is not politics. I do not get paid to write this. This is creation. All of it is me. And today I am tired. Tired of hiding.

The gloves are off. The mask is off.

It’s time to talk honestly about that sneaky little bitch that is my depression. I’ve been toodling along, hiding all my shit in happiness and humour, and she has reared her ugly head and tried to cover me her blackness. My kid’s been gone a week, should be time for me to refresh, but as I’ve realized, yet again, my days are formless without him. I don’t have much to do, keep me going. He does indeed, give me a reason to live. I have to get this out. At times, I have been so depressed I’ve thought about ending it, just  not being anymore. It’s been that bad. There was a time in Montreal, where the tube rail looked so inviting. I started taking the bus. A time when I was with an abusive cop up north (more on that nightmare later) where I thought a bridge may do. Sometimes all I can do is weep. Like, for hours. In my head, all I’m telling myself is “It’s too hard. This is so hard.”  Mostly, like this week, I just feel apathetic and confused. And I want to hide. Not come out of my house. Not let anyone ‘know’.

Stupid. I guess now everyone knows. Well, okay. Good. Glad that’s out in the open. Phew. I am relieved.

So what I need to do is force myself out of my comfort zone as much as possible. If I have any advice for anyone else who is depressive, it’s just do one thing. Doesn’t matter what. A walk, clean house, see a friend. That one thing leads to more things. Keep doing them. Don’t sit there, like I do and get worse til it’s too difficult even to bathe. Do it. I am. 

I’m starting with yoga again tomorrow. You may not believe this, but I was one of those yoga bitches. Like heavy into last fall. Reading the Sutras, trying to learn Sanskrit(!) so I could become an instructor. And yes, I even did hand stands and arm balances. Proud! But, I fell off my mat. Haven’t been able to climb on yet. Depression does funny things. Strange part is, yoga helped. A lot. Took me out of my head. Took me to spirit. Not too sure why I quit.

But, I’ll start again where I am at. Ten pounds heavier, a bit sadder. I’ll get there.

I do all the other things I’m supposed to. I take my pills. I do what I can. But she is sneaky. This life is tricky business, happiness is even more so.

The mask, well, it’s off. No more hiding.

I’ll keep you posted.

Yo! Yoga! Here I come.

p.s. If you want to talk, contact me at lgmoffat@gmail.com. I’ll help as much as I can. I’ll listen. I know. And any advice, oh yeah, fire it my way!

5 thoughts on “I Live in the Shadow of Depression

  1. Hey there. I finally got around to reading — still recovering from my vacation, which is probably material for more than a couple of blog posts — and I am really proud of your past few posts. Does that sound weird? Maybe I should’ve responded in an email, but I liked the more public forum of the comment because you expressed some concern/fear in your emails to me about feeling the need to be more open and just going with it, and I wanted to say — well done! I am flattered that I, in any way, inspired or encouraged you to speak your truth. You’ve done it courageously and gracefully, and you should be proud of yourself. It sure as hell isn’t easy just getting through the day, let alone being candid about the struggle. But struggling is far better than quitting, and this blog is you fighting back and refusing to give up. And that’s fantastic.

    I too have found that yoga has made a huge difference in my physical and mental health, and even though I’m an avid runner, yoga does things for me that running does not. So even though I can get compulsive about running almost daily, I now force myself to get to yoga at least twice a week, and I’m always glad I went.

    As for the anonymity thing — you mentioned that you’d been reading some of my older posts, so… you probably got to the one where I talk about the anonymity issue. It’s a tricky thing. I only told a handful of people in my “real” life that I was writing the blog, and I definitely regret it in almost every single case. Ahh, well. That’s life. And I pretty much have given the same disclaimer that you have, in terms of telling people to back the fuck off and let me have my say. With friends, it’s difficult. But the family is definitely the worst. My mother gets her feelings hurt waaaayyyy too easily, and that has been a bitch to deal with.

    Anyway, couldn’t let the day go by without letting you know how much I “enjoyed” (which is a weird word, considering the topic of this post), your last few posts and how much I can relate to them. it may not feel like it, but many of us are in this together. And if we can remember that, we can help one another continue through this ridiculous life. Also, if you read my post about missing my kids, you’ll see I relate to that part of your post as well. My kids may drive me nuts sometimes, but I feel extremely empty without them. They really have brought meaning to my existence… which is probably why I was one of the few people I know who didn’t encourage the to do sleep-away camp this summer! My friends thought I was nuts, but I couldn’t imagine not having them here. Fortunately, they weren’t really interested in going, so it wasn’t like I suffocated them like a stalker/clingy mom and made them stay with me.

    Gotta run now. I’m here if you need me and you know where to find me. Get to yoga and take it easy on that mat. You’re there to be kind to yourself, don’t forget that!

  2. Well, I came over from the ass kickin’ Minka’s recommendation.

    I have been trying to learn how to live with depression my whole life.


    Since I was about 3 years old.
    I try everything: I do.

    Somedays I am OK.
    Others, I don’t even want to think about it.

    • That’s me, too. I am okay for awhile and then boom. The wheels start falling off. The yoga does help. And the mindset of “I’m not letting this get me again”. I’ve gotten quite tough about it! All this fighting it has made me a bad ass!

  3. Sigh. Depression totally blows. But I am really glad that the awesome, fabulous Empress Alexandra stopped over. If you haven’t checked her blog out yet, you must. She is blogging royalty, and deservedly so.

    As for depression, when it really hits, I envision it as a drug — literally as something in a syringe that was injected into me. I think of it that way, and it helps me think that, like most drugs or meds, it will just be metabolized and run its course through my body, and then it will be done.

    I actually think this helps me. It makes me externalize the depression — ie, this isn’t me. This is this chemical that gets into me and I just have to wait it out… which I know it will.

    Not to say it’s easy. But so far, that’s the best mind trick I’ve been able to use.
    Namaste 🙂

Go on. Talk to Mama Duck.

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