Waiting
We spend so much of our lives waiting. For the bus. For prescriptions, as I was yesterday when I started writing this. For a text back. For news on the job offer. For updates on how a family member is doing. For certain dates to arrive, and for others to come so that they can go again and be in the rearview mirror.
Perhaps it’s a British thing, or simply just a human thing, but either way, by the grand semi-old age of forty, I’ve gotten good at waiting.
Yesterday I realised that this ability to wait is a really useful tool right now. I’ve been in the midst of a pretty intense bout of depression for a while, and many of my thoughts and feelings have been heavy, dark, sad and lacking in hope or optimism. As the years roll by, I am able to recognise that each autumn and winter, I find myself struggling with big existential questions, wrestling familiar monsters and feeling simultaneously overwhelmed and incredibly flat, purposeless and inept. I have come to understand that the warning system in my brain is an extreme one and instead of simply feeling sad, I find myself thinking about not wanting to be alive and fantasising about slicing and cutting parts of my body wide open.
And then, a thought arises, one that I instantly recognise comes from a different, wiser place: just wait. Yes, the days feel monotonous and painful right now, but I have enough in the tank to remember that they won’t be forever.
I have had a couple of medical diagnoses of depression in my life, but I mask it well. The telltale signs are subtle. I won’t text friends to check in, I’ll make few social plans, I’ll be incredibly withdrawn and grumpy at home, and I won’t shower or brush my teeth. This is why I started my Just For Today piece with the commitment, “Just for today I will make my bed.” Because for me, depression creeps into the cracks, almost imperceptible unless you know what you’re looking for.
So, I’ve decided to wait. While I wait, all of the usual crap will thunder through my head. I’m not doing enough with my life, I’m not making a mark, I’m not living purposefully, I’m simply not enough. I feel all of this at the moment, and can be so easily persuaded, by my own thoughts, that there’s no point.
But waiting teaches me to hold on. To remember that this is a tough season, and it will pass, and it’s not all necessarily true, and there will be brighter times, moments that I am so glad I am alive for.