Haze

I know, I know… I’ve been writing less frequently again. It seems like every time I try to write, I am confronted with the most overwhelming writer’s block imaginable…plus, I was diagnosed with major depression a few weeks ago. While it was a big “oh, that’s what’s going on” moment, it was also a “holy shit, this is real” moment. Kind of like the first time I saw “anorexia” on my health chart. Suffice it to say: it’s hard to be creative when your brain just doesn’t feel up to creating. Or existing in general.

The best way to describe my experience with depression is that it’s like being in the driver’s seat of a car while having absolutely no control over what’s happening behind the wheel. And the windows are hazy like I’ve been a heavy smoker my entire life, even though I’ve never touched a cigarette. Everything is distorted and seems so far away. And the drivers around me are all mad that I’m going too slow, and then too fast, and now I’m floating outside the lines, and I missed the exit, and I missed the exit again, and am I even paying attention at all to what’s going on? But I have no control. I’m just sitting in the driver’s seat with the illusion of control over what’s happening to me.

Don’t ask me how I pulled over, because I have no fucking idea. But now I am watching the other cars from the shoulder and trying to figure out what cleaner will take the haze off the windows, and what will make the steering wheel work again, and how low my gas tank is, and if I need to go to the body shop. And there are so many people who seem to think that one spray of Windex and a new carburetor are all I need to be totally back to normal…but even if that was all I needed to fix my car, I’d still be afraid to merge back into traffic because how can I trust myself to drive well? And what happens if the windows fog up and my steering wheel stops working again? And what if someone isn’t paying attention and hits me when I’m trying to merge back in? And what if this is just how it is now?

What if I am unfixable?

It feels like watching my life through a film, and struggling to connect with anything because nothing really feels real. I cling to the cracks in the film like tar clings to my front bumper. I just wish I could figure out how to make the cracks bigger to dissolve the film entirely.