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Atlas

So, depression is new. I thought I’d experienced it before. I had a shrink tell me once a few years ago that I suffered from situational depression. I only went to her the one time because she immediately tried to push meds on me and I was not interested in heading that direction. I don’t think she was right, anyway, not at that time. I still don’t want to go the medication route, but I am now much more sympathetic toward those who do.

It’s like a fog. Like living inside of a hazy bubble where I can still see and feel and smell and taste, but it all passes through a filter and the color and life is strained away before it gets to me. All the things that used to fill up my tank, so to speak, all the people that used to give me my “fix” just by talking with them, all the things I used to love to do,

they just stopped working.

I feel a little zombie-ish. Not in the good raccoon Medusa kind of way, either. It’s not like the survival mode I used to enter, where I would numb myself in order to stop feeling so I could function through the nightmare. I can feel, now. I just feel constantly…blah. Or worse.

I shake it off every so often. I have moments, hours even, where I remember life again. Then the fog rolls in or a trigger happens and I’m living back in a world without color or light…or life.

I will definitely conquer this one. There is no way I am keeping this. There is a reason I must live–or non-live–through this phase. I will figure it out. I will learn and grow from even this.

But I refuse to keep it. This will not be me. It has taken my choices from me and I will take them back. I don’t care how long it takes or what games I have to play with myself. I don’t care how many times it rears its ugly head or how often I have to fight it away.

This monster fogging up my brain and stealing my joy is more terrifying than anything I have yet faced, worse even than whatever the ex has to throw at me or tries to do, for inside of my head is where most of my reality exists.

But I will kill this monster. Over and over and over again if I have to.

Just like every other destructive force I have faced thus far, I will take the attempts to destroy and transform them into something powerful, beautiful, vulnerable, and worth it. I will find or create a purpose for this, for all of it. I will transform it into something greater than myself that will reach into eternity, that will change lives, that will save the world,

or at least, my world.

It’s heavy on my shoulders, my world.
I shall give it away to the one whose yoke is easy and burden is light. He can carry it, has already carried it. I just need to let him take it once more.
I’ll get there.

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