Depression is an odd thing.

I feel as though it sneaks up on you — you are going, and going, and going, not stopping to breathe, just trying to keep your head above water.  And then somehow, at some unknown moment, it consumes you.  It grips your soul, and suddenly, you are drowning.

It’s also surreal.  This feeling of hopelessness, overwhelming fatigue — disinterest in life and the ensuing sadness and frustration at feeling so disconnected.  It’s also funny how well people can cope — hide — their overwhelming darkness.  How you can smile, and function — get done what needs to get done — without any feeling of purpose or accomplishment.

Anyone who has ever felt depressed understands its nuances.  Understands its insidiousness.  Understands its inky darkness.

I’ve been here before.  It was a long time ago, in a different life.  But I know this place, this painful numbness.

When I was younger I had a painful fear of the transition from school to adulthood.  I can’t remember exactly what i was so afraid of, but I remember being paralyzed with fear.  I didn’t know how I was going to ‘grow up.’  I completely understood that everyone seemed to do it — I just didn’t understand how.  I don’t know why this was so terrifying to me.  But it was.  I might not clearly recall the details of my fear, but I certainly remember the feeling.

I think part of the reason that I ended up in restaurants was this fear.  I was afraid to pursue my dream of acting, and to stay young – to stay a child – I stayed in restaurants.  I waited tables and hid in the haze of serving and the lifestyle of the hospitality industry.  And then, without even realizing it, I ‘grew up.’  For six years I grew into adulthood by getting to work on time, learning accounting, and figuring out how to run a business with little to no guidance.  I learned to trust myself, trust my instincts, trust my brain.  I grew from a shy, scared little girl into a strong capable woman.

And becoming strong and capable has led me to again feel overwhelming depressed.

Life is funny that way, y’know?

I am looking forward into 2016, and the future of life — our first full year in our house, our trip to Italy, our trip to Iceland.  I’ve thought about how we’ve gotten here, the hard work and the sacrifices and the mistakes we’ve made along the way.  I’ve thought about maintaining our life, and the things we need to do to accomplish that.

And I know, without a doubt in my mind, that I cannot fulfill my half of the equation.  I cannot keep doing what I’m doing, day-in and day-out without support or recognition or gratitude.  I cannot keep doing what I’m doing when no one respects me, respects my time or respects my contributions.  I know, in the depths of my heart, that I have to make a change.  Or I will drown in this sadness, I will drown in this hopelessness.