I feel so sad.
I don’t want to get up. The husband and the kids are out. I heard the dog barking in the kitchen. I don’t care. She’s fine. She needs a walk though. How am I going to do that? I’m so tired. It feels impossible.
I could stay in bed all day. My husband wouldn’t question it. He’s forever telling me to rest, afraid that my mental health will seriously plummet I suppose. I am tired. No one would miss me really would they? I mean, if I stayed in bed all day who cares? No one. No one cares.
But I can’t stay in bed all day. I know that it is depression telling me to do that. I want to agree with depression; to stay here. Oh god I want that so much but I know that depression lies. I hate battling my head like this. I am so sad that it physically hurts. Sometimes the sadness is about equivalent to what people feel at a bereavement. Controversial opinion, I know but I know this. I’ve seen their sadness, grief and heartache. I’ve lost people I love too, of course, and even then that grief hasn’t been as strong as this sadness. Overwhelming and heavy.
I have nothing to be sad about.
So, with the knowledge that depression lies, that I need to run 17 miles in 3 days to achieve my 75 mile January challenge, that there is peanut butter downstairs, that I can do this, that my family love me, and that my dog is adorable, I will get up.Maybe I will shake off this sadness, or maybe it might lessen, or maybe my mood will flip into hyper as it can do. I don’t know but I do know that I have to get up and I will run today. Depression, you’ll either have to come with me or go away but I am calling the shots, not you.