The dark clouds have descended again, obscuring my ability to navigate the chummy waters of my life. I try to keep my despair at bay, thinking of how my depression impacts my children, trying to maintain an atmosphere of normalcy for their sake, but today, I find I cannot care enough about anyone or anything to resist the allure of the darkness. I considered calling my husband at work, to tell him I'm slipping into the dark water, to ask for help, but I didn't make the call, because I know he won't really be able to help me, much less even hear me, surrounded by the stress and pressures of his job. My friends are too busy as well, and my family is non-existent. I tried to paint, hoping it would bring a little pleasure to counter balance this tidal wave of morbid longing, but even that felt distant and trite, and not worth the effort.
It is always the way with depression, that once it rolls over you, encircles you, encompasses you, there is no real way out, only trying to hang on and ride the tide back to the shore of rational thought. There are no life boats to rescue you from the deep, because they never heard the cry for help. There is only yourself, treading water in the icy deep, thinking how peaceful it would be, to just stop fighting, to succumb to the darkness and float down into it's peaceful depths. I cannot decide which is more courageous: to continue the daily plodding or to acquiesce to the finality of the dark.