Three years ago, I was diagnosed with Anxiety/Depression. This is not an unusual diagnosis for mid-twenties people lost in a culture of baby-boomers and the 'Me' generation's spawns.
I was prescribed Zoloft, and I take it to this day.
Most of the time, I don't think about the events that led to my depression. I don't think about the depression at all, because it isn't something that looms over me. Depression lurks, but if I take the drugs, it won't loom.
I mistakenly have not taken the drug in the past two days. My seroquil levels are dropping. I am anxious and moody. I stomped around this morning while emptying the dishwasher. I am disgusted with my body and my face. I want to find the largest butcher knife in the house and slice off unwanted body fat. I am angry. I am sad. I am crying for no apparent reason.
I smell strange. No, I mean, I'm smelling strange things. I'm smelling frustration. I'm smelling angst. I don't want to go to work anymore. I don't want to put up with bills. I'm angry that I've abused my credit card. I want to throw up the last two Kit-Kats I've eaten. I'm not too sure any of this is normal.
The only thing I can do when the Depression rears up is wait it out. Just wait it out, because it isn't me. Depression is the tour de force of teeth grinding, nail biting, brow furrowing behavior. Depression is its own army, and I am the hostage.
Instead, I am going to design the next tattoos I want. It is these simple activities that quell the anxiety and sadness. Today, I will not be able to go into crowded stores because the heat and smell of other people pressing around me will cause me to go into a panic attack. Today, I will not be able to buy anything because I will spaz out over money. Today, I will not be able to ride my motorcycle because I will get too angry with careless motorists and put my life in danger. Today, I will need some space before feeling better.
This is what depression smells like. It smells like inconvenience and torridness. It smells like sour milk. It smells like rotten flowers. Depression is my burden to bear, and I will bear it as far as I can until I can't take the weight. Then, I will set it down and scream out my sadness.
