It’s 5:20pm on Monday and check through my Outlook calendar remembering back on a pretty epic day at work while Seth Condrey’s praise and worship song “No One Higher” pulses through my earbuds.
I slayed through my day today, got a shit ton of stuff done, published a bunch of really freaking hilarious jokes, and now I’m plugged into one of my favorite Spotify playlists… but, as I settle into my seat I can’t help but dig down not so deep to that familiar place within my gut and I feel that little tiny part inside of me dull ache with depression. That little part that makes zero sense at all given all that I’ve got going for me in life right now.
It’s 6:45pm and my three tiny people are settled in from the school day and watching a movie. They bicker only ever so-often, but in terms of health and behavior, we are beyond blessed. And my god are they beautiful. I’m making dinner, baked chicken and potatoes with roasted asparagus. Actually, I loathe cooking and silently wish it was acceptable to feed my family breakfast cereal for every meal. My thoughts recount the day highlights as I swing open the cooking utensil drawer, distracted by the sound of a child stealing a snack from the pantry I narrowly miss slicing my right arm open on a knife blade and instead knick my wrist. It hurts. It bleeds just a tiny bit.
I watch the blood run down my arm as I clean the cut in the sink. Without thought I catch myself wishing it had been much deeper, much longer. Much worse.
It’s 10pm and I am standing in front of my sink with a handful of pills and a glass of water. I memorize the chemistry of these medications, and wonder what the reaction would be if I accidentally poured the bottles down my throat until they all laid empty on the floor. I rub my finger over the chalky grooves of each pill in my right hand and toss them back with a swig. I secure the medicine drawer closed with a final glance. The irony of the medicine’s purpose is not lost.
I know this sounds crazy. I know that little part can seem so damn loud sometimes. The choice to not listen, to not act on what seems natural to my fucked up brain is a daily battle, sometimes BIG and sometimes little… like that part of me inside.