The Mind is Weak

Not January. That is all. 

I heard that one of the hallmarks of depression is the impossible task. The seemingly small, simple thing that for some reason seems so daunting, you can't bring yourself to do it. Maybe it's the sink of dishes, or a phone call you have to make, or cleaning the bathtub. The impossible task can move, changing from day to day.

For some people, the impossible tasks add up, until life itself seems like the impossible task. Then eating is a chore, and healthy eating is even more so. Getting out of bed is a trial. Answering the door is impossible.

And all around you, your inability to pick yourself up off the ground is mocking you.

The cheerios are ground into the carpet.
The windows are covered in smudges.
The floor is sticky from who-even-knows-what that was spilled who-even-knows-when.
The fridge is full of half-expired, unprepared groceries from that meal plan you wrote when things were better.

Everything you look at, everything you hear, everything you feel tells the same story: failure.

Your kids aren't supposed to have screen time. They've been watching TV for five hours.
Your budget is supposed to be balanced. You spend money you don't have on things that won't make you feel better.
Your life isn't that bad. You spend time wondering why you can't feel grateful that your house is warm, that you have food to eat, that nobody is dying or injured.

January has come to town.

Part of me, the tough part, tells myself to suck it up. That's how things get done. I sucked it up for 20 minutes and put a load of dishes in the dishwasher. But it took all my mental energy to tackle that impossible task, and now I don't feel any victory in getting it done. Instead, I just feel defeat because that one small thing dominated my day before I got it done, and now it will dominate more of my time because it took so much away from me.

I'm not writing this down so that people feel sorry or to make anyone worry. I'm writing it down because so many times, writings about depression or anxiety or anything like that have some sort of positive ending:

"You're tougher than this."
"If you see someone struggling, lend a hand"
"What you do matters, even if you can't see it."
"There's a silver lining in all those ground-up cheerios."
"Someday, things will get better."

This isn't one of those posts. I can guarantee that I will feel this way tomorrow. I'll still function, smile, meet my obligations, and survive, until the next day. And the next day. And the next day.

I'm writing this down to say: the mind is weak. It's often the weakest part of your self. Your mind gives up, and it doesn't matter what your body or spirit is capable of. You're beaten before you even begin.

And that's what so many people face. They don't face it every once in a while. It's not a cold that you can cover up with Advil and sleep off with a good dose of Nyquil. It's not the occasional down day. It's neverending.

To live your life, you constantly have to summon up your knight to come to battle. But the knight of your mind is tired of training. He's constantly fighting. He never gets to trade off or back down at all.

Other people have knights that can rest, they have days where no battle is required. They can recover from their wounds, research battle tactics, regroup. They might even be able to recruit some allies before the next dragon enters the ring.

Your knight doesn't have that luxury.

He cannot stop; the gauntlet is always thrown down. The bombardment from the enemy is constant, and he cannot let his guard down for even a moment. The sweat is pouring down his face and he keeps going for as long as he can even though it hurts, even though he's bleeding, even though he can no longer feel his feet.

But then, he's just one knight. Something happens that lands a nullifying blow to his resolve and he drops to his knees. He can't catch his breath. He can't get up off the ground. And then neither can you.

In fact, it might be a while before he's ready to get back up -- if you do get up at all.