On the good days, I convince myself that I’m fine. That I don’t need help. That it’s normal to not really feel.
On the good days, I convince myself that I’m okay. That I’ve just been overreacting.
On the good days, I ignore everything that’s bothering me.
But today wasn’t a good day.
You see, at half past eleven this morning, I was in bed with tears in my eyes. I was trying to patiently tell myself to get up. That I needed to go to the store and I had to get up now. And when I finally made my way to my closet, I cried because I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving my pajamas. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to find any item of clothing that was acceptable to wear in public but was also comforting. And when I finally made it to the mirror to do my hair, I stared back at my reflection and sobbed the words, “You’re fine! You just need to go to the store! It’s okay! You’re okay!”
At the store, I stood in an isle by myself, tears filling my eyes because I couldn’t decide what brand of mashed potatoes to buy. And I teared up again when I saw the price of the fish. And yet again when I didn’t know what kind of cake I should make and what kind of icing should go on top of it.
It’s days like today that I can’t believe this is what my life is like. I can’t believe getting dressed caused me so much turmoil that I couldn’t stop crying.
It’s days like these that I realize depression is real. It’s unexplainable. It defies reason.
It’s also days like these when I’m reminded I’m not okay. Days like these when I realize it might be getting worse.
On the good days, I convince myself that I’m fine. On the bad days… I wonder if I ever will be.