Two Weeks Is Too Long

It's been a while since I have updated. Far longer than I ever meant to wait between updates. I fell prey to a persistent fault of mine - once I fall behind on something, I am strangely reluctant to take it up again. And this applies to all kinds of projects. It's as if I think that by ignoring it I fall less behind. Or maybe I simply feel, somewhere in the back of my mind, that if I never get back to it, I can claim I abandoned it on purpose. Whatever the reason, my two week silence has nevertheless been eventful. I attended a new weekend-long LARP, and the very next day accepted a new job.

Most importantly, I got a curiously objective view of what my depression does to otherwise good days.

To provide context for those who may not know, I had been unhappy at my job starting about four months after I started there. The situation failed to improve, and even deteriorated somewhat, and I have been actively seeking new employment since the new year. Shortly after my last post, I submitted an application which ultimately led to my accepting a job offer last Monday. I gave my notice the next day, and at the end of the workday Thursday was told to pack up my gear and leave.

I should have been happy to be leaving a work environment that nearly drove me out of my chose field. I should have at least been relieved to no longer have that stress hanging over me. And when I was told I need not stay through the end of my notice period, I should have been joyful at having an unexpected vacation.

Instead I felt nothing.

I put on a good show to most everyone else. The depression hadn't sapped too much of my energy for me to go through the motions of excitement, and I have years of practice from denying even to myself that depression was an active influence on my life. But I couldn't hide from myself the odd sensation of feeling nothing when I achieved a long-sought goal. I couldn't hide from my partner that the elation he felt on my behalf was not matched by equal enthusiasm on my part. What should have felt like a heavy burden lifting off my shoulders instead felt no better or worse than any other day.

Depression makes my good days ordinary, my ordinary days exhausting, and my hard days nearly impossible.

And yet, there are moments, even days or weeks, that my depression does not seem to touch. And I wonder, is it really that the depression has left those moments unscathed, or is it that those moments are so bright, so good, that they penetrate the numbness? If my depression casts a pall on everything I feel, what must it be like to experience those moments without it?

I want, more than anything, to find that out.