Just Because

I’m not sure if people that don’t really experience depression think that depression is just about feeling really, really sad.

Trust me… it’s not.

Depression is seductive. It wants you to think that the answer to feeling better is to do nothing.

Depression is about not wanting to get out of bed in the morning, not wanting to shower, change, care. It’s about feeling hungry and not caring enough to get out of bed to get yourself something to eat. It’s about a complete lack of energy and total apathy. It’s about not caring enough to even cry.

I struggle out of bed each morning. I have a son who needs me to care and to fix him food. I struggle to go through the motions because I have a job and a life and goals. I struggle.

And I know I need help. I know I should make the phone call to find someone to talk to. But for now, I really have nothing to say.

I told myself I would make no resolutions until after my father passed away. I knew that the week I would be gone would be disastrous for anything I would try to do.

But now the time of resolutions has come. I’m making resolutions this year because I feel like I have stopped caring about many things. I have become lazy about myself and my life and I owe myself more than that.

Because I’ve read that it takes 30 days to form a new habit, I will only work on one resolution a month (or per 30 day period starting on or around the 18th of each month as I am a little late at this whole resolution/habit thing this year).

Part of being successful with a new habit is telling others your intention. So here is this month’s intention:

Exercise at least 10 minutes a day, every day. I’ll tell you how that goes.

I am very sad and very overwhelmed with many things to do. I have been in the Dominican Republic since Monday and I will be back in the United States on Sunday. I miss my son, I miss my dad and I miss my innocence. 

See you next week.

Dad and me

Whenever I’ve gone to a counselor they always say the same thing: “You never talk about your father.”

And I usually don’t.

My dad is a great dad for three year old’s. He’s a lot of fun. Likes to joke around, make faces, do theatrics. Responsibility was never his thing and I’ve had a hard time letting go that he never went to my high school graduation… or my wedding. But he is a fun guy. And a nice guy.

And every time you see the word “is” in the previous paragraph I almost typed “was”. Because my dad really was a fun guy. He might not be so fun anymore because he rarely stands anymore. He’s lost a lot of weight. He doesn’t eat anymore, only drinks glasses of milk when he can keep it down.

I found out at the end of October that my dad has cancer. Colon cancer. I found out five days later that it was Stage IV colon cancer. Inoperable. Vasculerized tumor. Too big, too spread out. My dad is going to die.

It’s been a couple of months. He went from “not feeling well” to “going to die any day now” in two months.

I’ve gone to see him a couple of times. He met Tomas. I had not seen him for two and a half years. I speak to him a couple of times a year. I never called because I never knew what to say. I still don’t.

I find that I talk about my father now more than I ever used to. I never expected to grieve his death. I didn’t think I cared enough. I guess I was wrong.