*** High functioning depression. Not just a name, or an excuse. It’s the daily work of getting out of bed. It’s using up all your spoons just getting through the morning routine. The irritation, the overwhelm. The inability to explain what’s wrong when your husband asks what’s going on. Commitments kept, expectations met. Life lived. Excitement, joy, cheer, enthusiasm turned down low; maybe switched off.
Then there’s the spark… The tingle of overwhelming love, appreciation, peace. Felt in a moment; no explanation, no instructions, just a random trigger. Beauty that makes the flat more pronounced. Still, a grateful feeling swells in the belly because beauty still exists.
Another day, another battle for existence. No crisis, no drama. Just a hill to be silently climbed while the world keeps spinning. ****
Yesterday I washed my daughters shoes, among other things. Today I’ll sweep the living room and kitchen floor.
