(No, this is not a picture of me, but it's exactly how I feel.)
Ok, I HIGHLY recommend you follow this link over to Hyperbole and a Half. Allie Brosh, the author/artist/genius behind the site is officially my hero for at least eleventy-million reasons. But mainly for being able to articulate what depression feels like and the effect it can have on the life of an otherwise normal, intelligent human being. I love the graph at the top of her post here, it accurately illustrates the hamster-wheel of a cycle I seem to have been stuck in for all of my so-called adult life.
It starts in Phase 1, where I'm just coping, managing to get by accomplishing the bare minimums. Turning oxygen into carbon dioxide. Keeping cats from starving to death. Retrieving mail from mailbox. (Not opening it though. Not there yet.) Growing hair and nails.
Then there's some wind in my sail (or maybe just a fire under my ass due to a deadline), and I'll go into the second phase. I'll restock the cat food. Maybe tear open a letter or two (but still not deal with the content. Too ambitious for Phase 2.) Answer ringing cellphone. If I have a compelling reason, I may even shower. Leaving the house voluntarily might even happen, if I have a hair appointment and it's not raining.
Buoyed by the wild successes of Phase 2, or maybe under the influence of too much caffeine or hepped up on diet pills, the manic productivity of Phase 3 begins. And it's not entirely unwelcome, because living in any of the other phases for any length of time makes it *really* hard to keep up with life. Enter the "CLEAN OUT THE EMAIL INBOX!!", "REORGANIZE THE SOCK DRAWER!", "PATCH ALL THE HOLES IN THE WALL!", "START ALL THOSE PINTEREST PROJECTS I'VE BEEN PINNING FOR MONTHS!", "TAKE THE CATS TO THE VET!", "PAY THE BILLS!", "FILE THE PAPERWORK!", "DO THE TAXES!", "THROW THAT PARTY!", "CALL THOSE FRIENDS YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IN EONS!", "LEARN ALL THE PRODUCTS YOU'RE ALREADY SUPPOSED TO KNOW FOR WORK!", "DINNER!? WHO NEEDS DINNER? LET'S CLEAN THE FRIDGE AND REPAINT THE KITCHEN!" phase. It's an awesome ride, there's never enough hours in the day to do it all, but hey, there's always tomorrow, right???! .... RIGHT!!?? The sense of accomplishment for getting done the things the rest of the world doesn't seem to struggle with is very satisfying.
Meh. Enter stage 4. Kinda sore and tired from all that "achieving" in Phase 3. I deserve a bit of a break after being so extremely super-awesome, right? Go back to retrieving mail, but since there's no backlog now, just let it pile up a little. It won't get out of control. Again. Lose interest in painting kitchen after paint samples are splotched on every. single. wall. Besides, the ceiling has to be scraped before we paint the walls and that takes too much work and hurts my neck and shoulders and I do a crappy job anyway but a professional would cost $500 and I'm broke because I paid all the bills and I don't have the money to do the full reno so there. That's how I justify not painting the kitchen for now. Get sick of seeing paintbrushes, trudge out to shed to hide the brushes of shame out of sight and get COMPLETELY OVERWHELMED by the shitshow that is my shed. Some demented human-sized squirrel stored --- nay, HOARDED--- everything he could find in here and I can't even enter due to the extreme amount of crap stacked to the ceiling in there. Wade 3 inches into the sawdust and carpenter effluvia, toss brushes on mystery shelf, run back to house and assume fetal position. Proceed to rock and try to cry but empty people can't make tears. Phone rings, turn it off. Too much to deal with. It's probably a bill collector anyway and there's no getting blood out of this rock. There's a sinkhole in the yard, and well, the house will just have to sink into it because our ever-increasing house insurance doesn't cover sinkholes, and I don't have a spare $20k to completely re-grade the front yard and install new driveway and french drains and cut down the Vietnam that is my front yard forest. And no, the loft will not get re-tiled with the world's most finicky rectified-edge oversized porcelain tile (that we already bought scads of) because it's not level and we can't level it and professionals don't want to touch it. So all of the loft detritus will continue to live in the office, which necessitates working --- ahem, "working" out of my bed and sliding into Phase 5.
Ah yes, Phase 5. We've seen this before. Make dent on my side of bed. Wake up with deeply aching muscles from doing NOTHING AT ALL and sleeping weirdly. Creakily get up, pee, return to dent. Rinse and repeat until another deadline or compelling event comes along to wrest you out of your funk.
Allie somehow manages to make this funny through her adorable illustrations and streamlined commentary. I don't have the time or the talent to do the same, but hopefully you get the idea. I don't know how I got here, to this point where I have to do everything or else it just doesn't get done, but I'm ready to get off the ride now please. Somebody else needs to drive this car at least some of the time because frankly, I don't know how I do it all.
