Depression

Today depression has got me tightly in its grasp.

I’ve barely left my bed and when I do, it’s to stare without feeling at my wreck of a kitchen.

The normal, healthy me would curl her upper lip in disgust at my unwashed dishes and crumpled paper towels littering the counter.

But the depressed me just sighs and decides maybe I could stand a movie.

I’ve already slept in and taken a nap. I cannot sleep any more. I’ve had some blueberries and a couple slightly stale tortilla chips.

A gallon of diet coke.

I wonder idley if it’s the combination of meds the new doctor has me on.
It has been awhile since I’ve been so bone-tired depressed.

I try frying chicken. Cooking can sometimes shake me. There is a momentary spark, but it is only that deep-buried normal me lamenting the further dirtying of the kitchen.

There is no following desire to clean it.

I do not eat the chicken. I give Zoe a small piece. She swallows it with little joy. Or so it seems. She lounges around with me dejectedly. Barely reacting to the noisy children outside that would normally get her to bark at least once.

I would feel bad about having it rub off on her, but the depression is coiled too tightly around me and all I can think about is how can I possibly pass the time until my body will allow me sleep again.

No movies grab my interested. I flip through a library book but nothing strikes me.

I just want this to pass. I want the chilly disjointed feeling to flutter far away.

But it only slips closer and rubs itself deep into my skin.

Perhaps the morning will be better.

Lying in bed with Zoe