I recognize this place, I’ve been here before
More than once.
As usual I describe it as being in a funk or occasionally a deep funk.
Which is simply a self-protective way of disguising what is actually mental illness.
So I’m not in a funk, nor just feeling sad or feeling down.
I’m in the throes of a major depressive episode.
So… having been here before I know how this goes.
The first thing is to stop the slide.
Call the therapist,
Explain I need help, it’s bad, it’s getting worse, I’m scared.
Her list of objectives is pretty simple.
Keep me alive, keep me out of the hospital.
Sounds simple, straight forward. Just wish it was.
Discuss the options, make her promises for one more day, one more night.
Even though the point of it all eludes me.
So the battle goes on
In a war that promises to go on forever.