If you don’t follow my other blog, you may not have read about the recent loss of my best friend, Chester.
That’s my boy. And I miss him so much.
Two days after his passing, I went on Automattic’s annual Grand Meetup – this year it was in Park City, Utah. And I nearly didn’t attend due to my crushing depression. My husband had to really convince me to go.
It took me nearly an entire day to pack for the week long trip which would normally take me less than an hour. I also packed a checked bag instead of my normal carry-on because I didn’t want to think about what I would need that week and just threw things into the bag. I didn’t want to go, so packing wasn’t important.
Then I had to put my emotions and feelings on hold for a week while I was at the meetup.
Except everything wasn’t ok. I felt hollow and dead inside. I didn’t actively think about my grief while I was there, but I definitely felt affected by it. I didn’t find as much joy as I normally would when being around my awesome coworkers. I found myself being a bit more cynical and snarky than usual. I wanted to dive into projects and seminars about leadership and how to make awesome products and self-improvement and fun activities, but it was all tinged with a dark cloud of sadness sitting on the edges of my consciousness.
I felt the need to be alone more often. While I enjoy having my own room/space at these meetups (mainly because I don’t have to worry about stray clothing or shutting the bathroom door when I use it), I typically don’t need to hide from the social activity. However, I found myself needing to so I could let my guard down for a while. I had one moment in my group learnup where I was asked if I had kids, and I said “nope, I have three kitties….er…I mean two…” then got too choked up to continue.
I feel bad putting on a mask of “everything’s ok” to my coworkers, because had they known how sad and broken I felt on the inside, I would have gotten nothing but support. I also would have cried most of the week, so I’m pretty sure bringing everyone down would not have been the best thing nor fair to everyone who had looked forward to our week together.
The last day and a half of the meetup, I got the cold/flu that had been making the rounds. Typically it’s due to overindulgence/not getting enough sleep that gets you sick at a meetup – but I know it was from my depressed state that left me open to the bug. I missed the grand ending party of the meetup – which was a blessing in disguise, I suppose. I didn’t feel like celebrating.
Once I got home, the little ghosts of Chester’s memory around the apartment started my grief afresh – like it was only less than three days after I lost him rather than 10 days later. I had put my grief and feelings on hold and now I was back to being anguished over the loss. I slept nearly all day the past three days getting over the illness – but it was a depression-fueled sleep. Without the depression, it probably would have only taken a day of rest/fluids to get over it.
Then yesterday, we went to pick up his ashes from the vet which cued up another evening of crying for me.
I’m also eating terribly (thanks Moose) and not exercising. Today, however, I’m going to make myself go out for a run (or a run/walk since I’m so out of shape), rain or no rain. Hell, the rain may make me feel better, somehow.
Tonight, we’re picking up a good friend from Minneapolis at the airport and he’ll be here all weekend – looking forward to that, actually. A bright spot in my week. Lawd knows I need one of those.
I’m writing this down to get it out of my head…to share with the three people that read this blog how I’m feeling. Why I don’t seem myself lately. Why it seems like I just don’t care about anything. Because right now, it’s hard to think of anything else.
I know the pain will subside over time. It just seems so far away right now.
5 thoughts on “Depression on Hold”
I’m sorry for your loss, animals hold such a strong bond with us it is truly heartbreaking to lose a friend of any species. I hope things get easier for you.
Thank you. It’s getting easier day-by-day – but it’s still hard.
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Sorry for your loss, Carolyn. Hugs.
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