Everything I think, feel and intuit about depression is purely concluded from self knowledge and reflection. I have never visited a psychiatrist, never consulted a therapist or psychologist. No one has properly, medically diagnosed me as to whatever is ailing my self right now. But reading the symptoms, really taking a step back to breath, jotting feelings down and observing my feelings in written form and listening to my mind and body carefully, I can say that we are equipped to observe and ascertain what ails us.
And defeat it. The path to healing starts with the self. A poor man’s reasoning, for sure, is that while a doctor may well end the ailment, we as patients at the very least possess half of the ammunition needed to heal.
We shall never clearly and concretely lock down what normal means. Adding the queer lens, I’d say that normal is whatever we want it to be. But add the layers of mental and physical health, with queerness with regard to bodily and mental functions, then ‘not normal’ or ‘unhealthy’ must mean simply that something isn’t right.
I did not need to hear my friend say no communication from the factors that contribute to my disorder. I intuited that to be my first line of defense. However, I’m glad he said it. It’s a great confirmation. Now there’s no doubt. As to how long, that’s up to me. Though I think I shall keep to myself for a few days more. I believe I’m still in a fragile state.
I’m tired. Overly tired. And though I’m starting to get tired of being tired, I know that pulling myself out of bed and forcing myself to go somewhere is not the way to go. Amidst all these comes the war of hearts and minds whether I’m just simply being lazy. I then remember a line from Yvonne Orji’s stand up:
“Is it that you’re lazy or is your body just finally at rest after a decade’s worth of work?”
And then I remembered another quote from actor André De Shields:
Slowly is the fastest way to get to where you want to be.
I resolved to do something that’s in between: I am not yet ready to respond to messages, or go to school, or work at the store, but I can get up, put on some clothes, buy some cleaning products, and clean the bathroom.
As I observed the happenings in town today, it quickly hit me, the knowledge lurking underneath that the world does not stop for anyone. Obvious and ultimate. I kept my gaze lowered for most of the trip. At the grocery store, I bought a dishwasher for my tumbler, some detergent for laundry, a couple of tile cleaning liquids and a brush.
I got home as quickly as I could. I entered my room and went straight to my bathroom, rolled my denim jeans and began scrubbing. I tired myself after barely ten minutes. It was like getting up from bed too quickly and feeling the lightheadedness from rushing blood. However, I did manage to clean the lavatory.
The free Dove soap holder which I had gotten years ago was covered with hardened soap residue. I managed to scrape most of it out but a good portion of the sludge wouldn’t budge anymore. I think depression is like this. Much like an ex-smoker who still misses smoking. It won’t completely go away will it? But maybe it I clean it repeatedly, I think I can restore it as close as possible to its original state. Slowly, slowly.
Thank you for reading.