What is Friendship?

And what is love. I told you about my recent distress. Well, some of it. There are more details to it, some are too embarrassing to share even on an anonymous blog.

I mentioned my close friend who has given me support. I actually met her through this blog. She read a few posts and made some very thoughtful comments. I reached out to her personally and we’ve been friends since. This was years ago. We both struggle and occasionally lean on each other.

Well, I’ve leaned on her. To be honest, I can’t recall a time that she leaned on me. Shit.

Anyway, we have very different lives. I’ve never met her in person and I doubt I ever will. Despite that, she’s become an important person in my life. She understands chronic depression and she’s willing to listen to me.

I’m not sure if I have a point here.

You know I write this blog as a process of self-therapy, right?

I’ve lost a lot of friends. Mostly because I am not proud of where I am in life and I just pull away. I still have a few who know that I am sincerely trying and I love each one of them.

Maybe that’s my point. There really isn’t a difference between friendship and love. If I know that someone is a real friend then I won’t be ashamed to share my jokes, stories, failures, and pains with that person.

I tell these friends I love them. It’s almost always awkward, but I do. I feel like if I have someone in my life who is willing to listen to my bullshit and forgive my failings then they should know that someone loves them.

Chronic Depression is Boring

Essentially, chronic depression is uninteresting. Depressives realize this. We know that being sad and then being sad more is just not interesting. We reach out to our loved ones for a little bit, but we can feel them rolling their eyes because we are rolling ours. We're as bored by it as they are. Unfortunately, we are trapped in it.

Here’s what’s going on with me right now. A beloved pet died four days ago. It was rough for my wife and me. I’m mostly over the death, but it triggered me into a depressive cycle deeper than I’ve experienced for years.

My wife and a close friend have been trying to help me through it, but I can tell they are getting weary of carrying my weight. I don’t want to continue to burden them so I’m pulling back; I’m retreating into myself. How many times do they want to hear about how shitty I feel? The growing problem is that it makes me feel more alone and the darkness becomes greater.

This morning my wife pointed out that I haven’t been eating. She’s right. My caloric intake since the death has been roughly 20% than usual. I mean, I’m a pudgy fellow, but this might not be the best weight loss program. I’m trying to eat. It’s annoying. I don’t want to eat and I vomit about once a day so that eating feels like wasted effort.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t think I’m suicidal, but often my last thought when I’m going to sleep is that I hope I don’t wake up.