We all know that Ridi carries most of the mental disorders while being host; anxiety and depression being the worst of the two. And it seems that during the time we weren’t on Adderall for a week or so, the depression has crept back in like a garbage of an ex that no one wants a drunken 2 am text from.
But yet, here it is. Here is the dark, deep hole of a creepy, lanky, stalking entity we call Depression. He’s here and we don’t know why. Ridi doesn’t know why she cried after making some food today. She just knows she did. Thankfully the depression is surface and isn’t into darker waters but it still hurts.
We can all feel it. We can all sense the dread. We all feel the weight on our chest as it sits atop us, a sleep paralysis demon during our waking hours.
There isn’t a safety risk, but we aren’t sure how to address it just yet. Should we call the psychiatrist and get ahead of it, should we wait it out now that we are fully medicated again and see if it goes away? The urge to clean the space around us is heavy, but the ability is low. There is no energy to even sweep the living room floor or clean off the sewing desk and work on a hyper-fixation to pull us out of it.
I want so badly to help in more ways than I think I can, but there doesn’t seem to be a clear answer as to what to do right now. Everything seems dreary, dull, and grayscale. Even the potential of seeing Sweets in a couple weeks is dimming from what was a bright light on the horizon. I wish there was a way to dig out from under the soil and see the light, but when it gets to be too deep in the ground, we lose the ability to know which way is up.
I am trying to stick to the normal routine. I am trying to do the self-care things. I am trying to force myself to clean. But all I’m doing is standing still while the weight of it starts to crush me.
I wish I knew what she was depressed about so I could fix it.
Traumatized Viridimere 