I found the most accurate description for my depression–it feels as though I am being assaulted with the death of a friends’ puppy every day. It is torturous but I can sepperate myself enough from it to survive.
I met friends at a bar tonight. I cannot drink while on my meds. Usually, it is not a problem. Tonight, surrounded by people, I felt so alone. I wanted so badly to be them. It is not the drinking that I desired–it is their freedom I want.
A different lust for freedom came over me yesterday–I saw a woman riding a bike. I imagined myself on my own bike, wind rushing past me, the pavement blurring beneath me. That image caught in my throat. Such a simple thing is beyond me right now.
My mom has a want for freedom as well–she told me the day she glances out the window and sees me running and leaping across our field is the day she can breath easy again. I am not prone to randomly running across fields but I get it. We both need that day to be soon.