“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.”
― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Lately, I’ve been very sad. I always thought I am a generally happy person with some sad days. But now the bitter realization is dawning that maybe I am a generally depressed person with some good days.
I look back. What I see is me crying, for various reasons, almost every night until the end of my teenage years. In fact, I began wearing makeup in middle school to cover my puffy eyes. I did two university degrees after that, and I was pretty miserable. “It’s circumstantial”, I used to comfort myself.
The circumstances are gone now, but the weight of sadness still lingers. I cry once or twice a day. I don’t know why! Sadness, quite literally, leaks out of me. As if my tears are permanently resting on the brim of my eyelids, gushing out ferociously with every little nudge. I’m embarrassed.
It seems that I have to do so much work to feel “not sad”. Now, I am exhausted. I have no energy to suck out of me. Why is it so much work to not feel pulled down? Every day, I drain whatever is remaining, and make it through the hours. But then the next day comes, and I have to do it all over again. Each day that passes by it becomes harder to drag the weight of sadness. I am captured with no escape.
I feel hollow. An empty hole eats up all my will. I don’t want to work, write, paint, walk, eat, or be awake.
I feel guilty. I am being a crappy worker, friend, girlfriend, sister, daughter.
Between forcing down the tears and holding my head high, my pool of energy is bone dry.
I will see my therapist next week and ask for a note so I can take some time off work. I’ll be okay, don’t mean to worry you x