Merely A Passenger

There are days I am happy and joyful, full of love, kindness and a zest for life. I call friends, make plans, laugh at things because I genuinely feel happy. I wish there were more of those days.

More often than not I am fighting just to get out of bed in the mornings. On days when I don’t have to go to the office and my son isn’t here, which he hasn’t been for the past five weeks, I don’t fight it. I let the demons or whatever win. I stay in bed until the sun is going down. Safe in the confines of my bedroom, snuggled up with a blanket and half a dozen pillows.

When was the last time I spoke out loud, had a real conversation with someone? Sometimes it’s days.

It’s not that I don’t want to be happy and joyful. I do. It hurts how much I want to be that person. But I’m not. Not today at least. Today I am merely a passenger on the road trip that is my life. I can’t choose where we drive to or how long we stay. I can’t make a detour and change the scenery. All I can do is sit there and let the driver take me where they may.

Why aren’t you writing? You should write more.

Oh, that I could. The ideas are there, the stories I want to tell. I have a mind full of sexy stories, tragic stories, love stories. I want to get them out, I’m just not able to. I’ll get excited about something, a story or project I’d like to do, and pour everything I can into it until it’s near completion then it just sits there in my unfinished pile. I have a large unfinished pile.

I wonder if someone could spank the life back into me, or beat the depression out of me. If I burst through the floodgate that keeps my emotions at bay would I stop being depressed? Would I become the driver again? Or would it just make everything worse?

Part of me wants to find out. Yet another part of me, the part that fights getting up in the mornings, would rather things stay as they are. If I don’t do anything I don’t run the risk of failing. But if I don’t do anything I also run the risk of sinking deeper and deeper into that pit of hopelessness we are driving towards and isn’t that worse than failure? Never even trying.

 

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4 thoughts on “Merely A Passenger

  1. Oh sweetie, I so wish there was a way for me to help you. I think it’s a positive step that you have written this and it would be nice to see you writing at least once a week. Depression is a bitch. If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know, even if you only want to talk, and even though I know that talking might not help you. I really wish there was something I could do for you. Sending you lots of hugs and love!

    Rebel xox

    • Thank you so much for that my beautiful friend. Knowing you are in my corner is a tremendous gift. I will come out of this. 💗

  2. I totally understand so much of this. Depression, being depressed, has an effect on so many aspects. It creeps up and tries to still so much joy. It’s a struggle I have as well. I’ve contemplated and sought out spankers to help when I’m anxious and subsequently low. It can help, but I’ve had to really think about what makes me dip too.

    I wish l had the right words to help turn the low off. But I know it’s not that easy or even welcomed maybe. I hope you find a better place

    • Thank you Cara. I wasn’t sure Wicked Wednesday was an appropriate place to share, even though the prompt was what led me to writing it, but I knew many people reading could relate and they wouldn’t judge me for using kink to help get me to a better place.

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