The past few days have been tough. Depression has settled over me, and I’m having trouble with my sleep, moods, focus, etc.
The top is wobbling, and I need to fix it to get it spinning again.
Third year university was a lousy time; far enough in that it’s no longer new and exciting, yet far enough from graduation that the end isn’t in sight.
Add in winter to get a recipe for mental health problems; I was already feeling low when my long term girlfriend and I broke up.
That was the first time I recall experiencing what I call the grey mist. I wasn’t suicidal, I didn’t want to die. I just didn’t care if I did. My exact words (and yes, I remember them to this day, 30+ years later) were:
I don’t care if I wake up tomorrow.
The top was wobbling on the verge of toppling over.
Second term arrived, and I threw myself into my studies. I applied extra effort to my karate training. I spent more time with my social circle.
I didn’t know it at the time, but I was developing the strategies I use to this day to navigate the grey mist of depression.
The last few days I have needed them.
The hit I took Saturday got me to reflecting that I’m living on borrowed time. Depression is my constant companion, always lurking in the shadows, looking for a weakness, a point of attack.
Sooner or later, he’s going to get me. But in the meantime, I can keep applying energy to the top. I can keep it spinning, and keep it upright.
Some day I will likely die by my own hand, but not today.