My depression makes me busy

My depression makes me try to do all the things all the time. That way, I can’t feel it.
I can’t cry. I’m too busy writing a blog. I can’t lie down. I’m too busy editing my book. I can’t have a migraine. I’m too busy working out. I can’t feel overwhelmed. I’m too busy planning the Disney trip, setting up dentist appointments, setting up eye exams, getting the dog and cat to the vet, getting the oldest their ID for the trip, getting my son vaxxed, making a grocery list, going to parent teacher conferences, helping with homework, helping Bunny’s art business, meal planning.
So I don’t have time for my depression. I just don’t have time. I just keep piling things on top of it to squash it down. Make it smaller. Make it flat. Maybe even crack it and break it down. Before I crack and break down.
The problem is that my depression is more like a river than a cracker. You can put the rocks in the river but the water will go under, over, and around. Even when you stack the rocks on each other, the water will find a way. And water has a way of wearing things down. Eventually the water will win and those rocks will fall and be carried away. But the water will still be there.
And I’ll be standing there, holding wet rocks and wondering how it all went so terribly wrong. All the while still doing my best Giles Corey impression. “MORE STONES!”
So you see. I don’t have time for my depression. Maybe I can pencil my breakdown in sometime after June. You know after school, disney trip, Bunny’s birthday, going through changing Bunny’s name. But then there’s fourth of July planning, then back to school, halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas. Then I get to do it all over again.
So maybe June isn’t a good time. T Rex turns 18 in 10 years. Maybe my depression and I can catch up then. 2032? Is that good for you? Or should we try 2033? That’s better for me.
I can have my breakdown in 2033. Until then, I’m just too busy. You see?