Today has been, on the whole, not a bad day. At least, not objectively. And yet, I am floundering in depression, mostly because before today (or at least last night), I didn't realize I was in depression.
It started, I think, with a call about having to go do a random drug test and breathalyzer. Neither of these were problematic from the stand point of me worrying about not passing. I don't drink (it's been over a year since I have), I don't smoke (which would be legal, as long as it was tobacco), and I would be the least likely person to do any actual drugs (I dislike needles, I don't like the idea of snorting anything, I barely tolerate taking pain reliever, and I am against the idea of smoking anything, which rules out most forms of drug intake). The call came about 3 hours before I was likely to get up. It was almost 2 hours before I would finish my actual (legally required) break (it didn't hurt me nearly as much as it could, but it did screw up my work day later that day). And then I spent the rest of the day overly tired, but unable to convince myself to take a nap.
So, despite depression usually sneaking in through bringing insomnia, it snuck in when I was distracted with work-based, forced insomnia. And then I just thought I was tired, because of hormones/time changes/somebody screwing with my schedule for a day.
Instead, I was apparently sinking into depression.
The sign that tipped me off was my lack of actually feeding myself on my own. I didn't buy food, or make a sandwich, either of which I could have done and it would have been better for me. Instead, I just decided I should make a sandwich, and then didn't make one. Because we ended up somewhere it was snowy, which required a little bit more effort when going in to go to the bathroom, and coming back out to relax, while waiting for a load. And then I would remember, after sitting on the bed, that I was going to make a sandwich, but I didn't want to climb back down. So, I just didn't really eat.
This, by the way, is very unhealthy and not a coping mechanism. My body was still telling me, screaming at me really, that it was hungry. I just couldn't get myself to do what needed to be done.
Last night, I confessed this to Ace, while eating a ham and cheese sandwich he bought me before bed. We were switching who was driving, and I knew I'd enjoy the ham and cheese sandwich, so I asked him to get me one, while I went to the truck and pulled down clothes for us and made him the active driver. He reminded me that I can buy something for myself to eat, including Lunchables, if I need to. That it's okay, and even budgeted, for me to spend that money. It was a good reminder. It doesn't necessarily help me if my brain tries to claim the lines are too long, but the better thing there is to remind myself that I don't have to talk much to buy my food and that feeding myself is important.
So, I'm back to trying to find the shore. Finding out about Stan Lee's death did not help today. It brought about the feelings of sadness, but the depression was really already here, lurking. Keeping me from doing the bare minimum of taking care of myself.
Tomorrow, we have a load again. Tomorrow, I focus on driving and listening to Terry Pratchett's Moving Pictures (and some preaching on marriage). Tomorrow, I do my best to keep my head above the water and keep searching for the shore.
But tonight, I give myself permission to just breathe, if that's what I need to focus on. And to eat some dinner, because food is good and good for me, but that I won't be upset if I don't eat much because I'm just not up for it. And that I can buy myself a Lunchable, if need be. Tonight, we make it through, minute by minute, hour by hour.
