So it’s been awhile.
I could (very easily) make this a long-winded day-by-day recap of the last six weeks (or so). I’d bore you. I’d bore me. And so far into this post I’ve made a dozen typos. I definitely don’t want to rely on autocorrect to keep this readable (in the most basic sense of being a string of English words).
I’m . . . off.
Anyone who’s been through summers with me know this is usually a bad time for me. But this isn’t my usual “the world’s too bright” depression. Or maybe it is that, but it feels different.
You know those days that are just blahs? Sure, there are problems, or at least minor issues, but you know they’re things you’d normally stride right through with no more than an eye roll, sarcastic aside, or self- deprecating comment. The problems aren’t an insurmountable hill of glass with spiky bits. But you can’t get past them easily. It’s definitely you, not the whatever’s going on.
That’s how I’m feeling all of the time. In trying to describe it, I sound like when friends with depression talk about so many of the antidepressants. Lows, but not deep lows, but no highs either. And a, well not really detachment from reality, but not exactly a part of it.
It’s like I’m watching the very meh reality tv show that is my life and I can’t be bothered to change the channel or just go read a good book. Internally I feel myself making the comments I would probably actually make watching a decent character make do dumb things. I vaguely feel like I’m probably missing all sorts of important or at least kinda interesting stuff happening around me.
blah
It’s been going on for — fuck, I really have no idea. I want to say weeks, but I don’t think that’s true. I think it really might be because only one week or so; I just can’t feel anything correctly now so I can’t remember when I could feel. Anyway, let’s be realistic: we’ll say I’ve felt off for maybe a week with the concession that the blah seedling has possibly / probably been growing for a bit.
I think Terry Pratchett once described something like being stuck in a small, local hotel on a wet Sunday afternoon with nothing on the telly but Welsh tv. I should look up the quote, but, yeah, I’m not gonna.
So what is this? Is this how depression starts, low and slow? Or is it just an extended case of the blahs? How can you tell the difference? What is the difference, if any?
Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you an essay test.
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