When the Lights Went Out
Somewhere between darkness and daylight exists a strange kind of limbo. Time passes, but it doesn’t always feel like you’re moving with it. The days blend together, and before you know it, another week has disappeared.
It’s been awhile since I’ve written a blog post. As it turns out, it’s difficult to rebound from suddenly losing a job you found yourself enjoying a lot. For the longest while, I was stuck in a holding pattern. Unable to break free.
The initial shock and anger I experienced turned into something very different—and yet all too familiar. The Depression Beast had sunk its claws into me again. I found it hard to function. The Processor was also glitching.
Despair and depression can suck the wind right out of your sails. This is why I’ve been silent for the last little while. Just floating offshore. Today I thought it might help if I could write about it.
When I wrote The Map Was Wrong, I knew I was disappointed, angry, and grieving a future that had disappeared almost as quickly as it had arrived.
What I didn’t fully appreciate was how much darkness was waiting for me after the storm.
The map was wrong. The ship was still afloat. But somewhere along the way, the captain lost the energy to sail.
The Weight of Nothing
The word “nothing” seems to imply weightlessness. Nothing can be further from the truth.
Every day felt heavier. The thick, dark clouds were making it difficult to see clearly. I found myself wishing I could just die and end this suffering. If I want to be brutally honest, these were the thoughts that consumed me all of last week.
Some nights, I had difficulty sleeping, so I wound up staying in bed later. I also began taking more afternoon naps occasionally, especially if I left the house to get some necessities. I lost all interest in doing anything other than sleeping, eating and watching tv. The fog rolled in and I couldn’t see through it, which made it difficult to concentrate.
Any attempt to try to do something—anything—productive was met with an overwhelming feeling of anxiety. I was basically just existing. Sure, I made appointments and attended some very important meetings with my career counsellor. But the enthusiasm had vanished completely.
Each day I would wake up, I’d accomplish nothing. A day turned into several days. The next thing you know weeks have passed and I couldn’t escape it. It turned into massive guilt for not doing the things I knew I needed to do, which led to even more feelings of despair.
The frustrating part wasn’t that I had nothing I wanted to do. It was that wanting to do something and having the energy to do it had become two entirely different things.
I want to acknowledge something important here. Those thoughts about wanting to die were real, and they frightened me. Thankfully, I’m no longer experiencing them. But I also know I’m not the only person who has found themselves in such a dark place.
If you’re reading this and struggling with thoughts of suicide, please know that you don’t have to face them alone. In Canada, you can call or text 988 to reach the Suicide Crisis Helpline, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. You don’t have to wait until things become unbearable to reach out.
The Depression Beast Takes the Helm
The big, furry blue monster decided to linger around for a while aboard the ship. He would bound with large, heavy steps, often causing the boat to sway back and forth. Then he’d collapse next to the wheel, and no one else was able to get around him to reach the helm. At times, he’d just lay there, with one of the handles pressing firmly on his enormous belly.
He’s not necessarily doing anything malicious. He’s just there. And his presence makes everything harder.
At first, I thought The Depression Beast had simply returned for another unwelcome visit. But I’m beginning to understand why he showed up this time. I wasn’t just disappointed. I was grieving.
After three long years of trying to get my career back on track, I’d finally found something to be excited about. Having it suddenly taken away felt like a sucker punch to the gut. Not only was The Depression Beast very present, but so were some others:
Dr. Anxiety keeps reminding everyone about everything that needs to be done. The Taskmaster has a growing list of responsibilities and absolutely no patience for the lack of progress. Fog makes it difficult to see beyond the immediate moment. The Translator struggles to make sense of feelings that don’t seem to have clear explanations. Groundskeeper quietly reminds the captain that basic care still matters.
The Depression Beast wasn’t roaring or throwing furniture around. He’d simply made himself comfortable, and suddenly there wasn’t room for much of anything else.
The Cruelty of the Inner Narrator
You know that little voice inside you that tells you things about yourself? Sometimes it’s helpful and uplifting. Other times it can be a real drag. Last week that inner narrator was very difficult to listen to.
She kept insisting: Life isn’t worth living. It’s completely unfair how good people barely survive the day, while others inexplicably get away with multiple crimes and can become the President. What’s the point of life? Is it always supposed to be a constant struggle from the cradle to the grave?
I knew losing one job didn’t erase everything I’d accomplished. Unfortunately, knowing something and believing it when you’re depressed aren’t always the same thing.
Sometimes my inner narrator can be a real downer.
The Smallest Signs of Daylight
I decided to reach out for some help at the end of last week. That was the first step. I think it’s important to acknowledge that sometimes you need help trying to find your way back to the helm.
For some odd reason, even reaching out to a few sources made the heaviness start to lighten up. Reaching out for help made me feel less trapped. A couple of strands of light started to shine through the thick, black clouds. The skies are not clear at this point, but the clouds are starting to break.
Each day this week has felt a little bit better than the last. A little lighter. I’m starting to enjoy things again, and have finally gotten out of my head enough to begin some assignments my career counsellor has given me. Today I even applied for a job.
I really do feel like I was stuck in the depression phase of grief. While it’s not completely gone at this point, I will say I can see the acceptance of “it is what it is” starting to form. After all, Halloween is just one week away—and it’s on a Saturday this year! Now if only I had somewhere to go…
Daylight didn’t arrive with a dramatic sunrise. It slipped in quietly, through moments so small I almost missed them.
Learning to Climb Without a Cape
I think I’ve had so much experience going through multiple bouts of depression over my life that I can recognize when it’s starting to lift. Today I started to feel this.
Now I know there are countless resources out there for people to find to help themselves out of a depression cycle. Believe me, I’ve tried them all at some point in my life. For me, I think it’s easier to acknowledge the feeling I am feeling, rather than trying to avoid it or pretend it’s not here. It’s why I have a whole category on my blog dedicated to trying to understand my emotions.
Looking back, I can see how closely this bout of depression was connected to my grief. I had allowed myself to love my job to the point that losing it felt like a major blow to my ego. Part of me never wants to feel that excitement about a job again, because I don’t want to experience the pain of losing it all over again. But I did love the job. I loved what I was doing, even though the pay wasn’t that great.
As I’ve often written about before, this was just a page in my story. The chapter isn’t finished yet, and there’s plenty of chapters left. It’s time to turn the page.
SuperMell doesn’t always need to be strong, productive, or ready to save the day. Sometimes the heroic act is simply taking care of the person beneath the costume.
I used to think climbing out meant finding the strength to leap back into action. Lately, I’m learning that sometimes it means taking one small step and accepting that it’s enough for today.
The Crew Begins to Stir
Meanwhile aboard the ship, The Depression Beast starts to move. He shifts his weight until he’s sitting right next to the helm. His sad eyes meet the emerging sunlight. A small smile starts to show itself on his face.
Excitedly, The Groundskeeper starts making a list of things to do. Recognizing that he doesn’t want to overwhelm the beast again, he decides to take it one task at a time, and only if the ship can handle it.
The Spark shows up. They have embraced the need to write about this experience. After all, it has been a couple of weeks since my last post.
The Navigator pulls out a map from the drawer and heads to the lookout. She begins plotting the next course to take. The Taskmaster reminds us that we need to get back to a regular schedule and keep things moving.
Meanwhile The Procrastinator has continued to play an integral part of being the union representative of the ship, reminding everyone to continue to take many breaks to ensure burn out doesn’t happen again.
The Depression Beast hasn’t left the deck. But he’s no longer halting the ship.
Diana To The Rescue
Of course, I should acknowledge my little sidekick. She’s been a great help through all of this. She knows when it’s time to give me my space, or when I need a cuddle session. Nap time is her favourite time!
It’s like she’s the ship’s morale officer. She reminds me that if things get this heavy again, I could always take a toy mouse and fling it into the air. That always makes her feel better.
And I have to admit, I find myself smiling a little more when she does this.
Final Thought: Somewhere Between Darkness and Daylight
I’m not going to pretend the darkness has disappeared. Some mornings, it still takes more effort than I’d like to find my footing.
But there are moments now when I recognize myself again. Moments when something makes me laugh, an idea catches my attention, or I feel the familiar urge to create.
The sun hasn’t fully risen, and I don’t know what the horizon holds.
For now, I’m somewhere between darkness and daylight.
And after spending so much time in the dark, even a little daylight feels worth holding onto.
Have you ever found yourself slowly emerging from a difficult period? What helped you recognize those first small signs of daylight?
Discover more from Mell D'Clute
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
