On Depression

I open my eyes and look at the wall. Frown. Huddle deeper into my comforter.

I want to want to get up and get moving. I want to want to enjoy the sunny summer weather. I want to want a lot of things. I want nothing.

I stare at the wall. It’s painted dark gray, a cool reminder of how I feel inside. I close my eyes again.

I want to feel happy today. I want to feel loved. I want to feel, really feel, the pain that harbors itself in the pit of my stomach, in my veins. I want to feel something, anything. I feel nothing.

Finally, after the tick tock won and I stumbled out of my bed, I amble around the apartment. Room to room, seeing my home behind a veil of darkness. Boredom, apathy, numbness. I open the refrigerator door and gaze inside. The fridge is barren. I close the door and amble more, shuffling from the kitchen to the living room, the hallway to the bedroom. I sit on the bed and stare at the wall. Gray, dark, cold.

With a heavy sigh, I lie back down and engulf myself in the blanket again. There is too much to the world today and not enough care inside me. The world will wait, and I will sleep.

Debbie is an addiction counselor and yoga teacher in Indiana.  She is an avid reader of any genre, and has published fantasy short stories; she is still working on the elusive novel.  Recently, Debbie has ventured into non-fiction writing, in hopes that discussing her life with an eating disorder will help someone in need.  Debbie’s loves include her niece Lillie and her girl-cat, Emilio Estevez.  She is passionate about mental health awareness, especially related to addiction and eating disorders.