I've learned, when it comes, to treat depression as illness, to pamper myself and wait for it to pass. I've learned to recognize, even in the throes of it, that it will pass, that I just have to wait it out, that I'll feel better in the morning.
Usually the end of the week is worst -- Thursday, Friday, Saturday. After a weekend to rest, I'm refreshed, just in time to start another week of getting my soul sucked.
The past week was especially difficult. Both the past week and the week before demanded long hours at work, so I was all the more tired by the end of the week. Plus the two people I normally talk to on the phone on a daily basis happened to both choose the same week to be unavailable to me. Fatigue brings depression, but consistently having someone to talk to is what keeps me from going over the edge.
We humans crave to be loved. Perhaps we evolved that way because we are more successful if we can cooperate with others.
But most of the time, no one really loves us. They are friends with us for a time, as long as they find us entertaining. But then they move on. Then they have more important things to do.
I am here, alone in my depression, alone in my fatigue, alone in my anxiety about my job. Where did they go, the friends I thought I had? They are off chasing what's important to them. What's important to them does not include me.
I always thought friends were the same as adopted family. I was quick to adopt my friends, to consider them my family, to give away my loyalty. But they tired of me and moved on. They did not value the loyalty I offered them.
Family too moves on, the younger ones. While the older family members feel their job is to nurture the younger family members, the younger ones feel their job is to grow up and leave the nest, to move on.
My grandmothers and my parents, they are the only ones who have always been there for me.
I will outlive them, and then I will be alone.
I'm sorry I gave away the teddy bear I had as a child.
I will feel better in the morning.