Depression: A Soggy Blanket

My depression feels like being spelled into a sopping wet blanket. I say “my depression” because I’m pretty sure everyone’s is different. But mine is heavy and uncomfortable. It’s hard to do anything in the wet blanket and hard to think about anything other than the wet blanket. It’s really exhausting dragging it around all the time, and I definitely don’t want other people to see me with it--I’m weird and powerless.

I take to dim-lit places so it’s not so obvious. It insulates me from everything else and I can’t engage with the world. After a while, it rubs me raw; I’m sensitive to noise and light. The sadness and isolation turn to frustration and irritability and then cycle back to the beginning, over and over. And then I’m numb.

All I want to do is throw it off. But some wicked witch has bound it to me. I end up sleeping a lot to forget that the blanket is there and to rest from carrying it. I eat sweet and oily things to distract myself from its presence. It’s hard to concentrate on any one task. My mind keeps wandering away from my body. Anything to be rid of the blanket for a moment.