I can feel it happening. The tightness around my chest, the uneasiness in my stomach, the aches in every joint. That isn't the worst of it. The feeling of needing to cocoon myself in silence and solitude, the resentment towards anyone who breaks that silence, the desperate fear/rage when I am forced to abandon the solitude.
This is not a bad bout....so far. I am able to fake interest in things, to hold my irritation in check when the Sprouts interrupt my inner dialogue. I observe the pain and misery, but am able to understand that it is NOT me. I am thankful that the pain hasn't overwhelmed my sense of self. When it does, things get really bad.
I think the rain has something to do with it. Rain for the second day in a row, and though I (as a gardener) am grateful for the moisture, the grey skies seem dreary and the constant hissing of rain on the leaves lulls me into a stupor.
I know that the sameness of every day has something to do with it. I go to work to cook and clean, then come home to more of the same. Day in and day out, there is no change. It makes me tired. Mentally, if not physically. It seems that my 'weekend' is never enough to recharge me fully.
I wish there was a magic pill that would cure this, once and for all. I don't like the thought of dealing with recurrences of this feeling for the rest of my life. I want to fix it and just be done with the whole thing, put it behind me.
Still, like I said, this isn't a terribly bad bout of depression. So I will clean the house, and care for the Sprouts, and do what I can to muscle through. Soon I will have a few days off work, and we have planned a family outing. Perhaps that will be enough to get me out of this funk.
Like Dory (from Finding Nemo) said: "Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming."