Getting into the same old groove

Spring comes...the grass grows by itself...

Like Alice in Wonderland I find myself spiralling down the eternal rabbit hole. Again and again and again to the point where I can recognise all the milestones and identify all the points of interest along the way.  Going down into this particular rabbit hole requires no sat nav or mapbook.  I could draw the map from memory, complete with little turns, small detours and unexpected pitfalls. I could be the ultimate tour guide of the descent into depression.

Yesterday I spoke to Ralph about feeling so low.  The inertia this time has been more total (is that a good thing?  Am I becoming more total in everything, or just in misery?) and more all-encompassing.  Lots of tears, lots of exhaustion, and it all hit like a big giant truck rolling over me. It seems to feel especially tough because I wasn't expecting it.  In winter I know that these feelings are around every corner and I know which corners to avoid, but now it's Spring, the sun is shining, the cherry blossoms blooming and it is not supposed to be here. And yet, here it is, in all it's monochromatic, melodramatic glory.

Why? This is the question I was asked?  Why?  Why?  What a frustrating question because I don't have any answers. Maybe because it is easy, but it sure doesn't feel easy.  Maybe because I know the way here, but I also know the way to other, more positive emotional states.  It seems, though I can hardly believe this, that I have no control over the fog of drabness that has descended.  It makes me anti-social and uncaring, except for crying and self-pity.  For sure I do not like myself in this state and I know that one of the roads out is to begin to like myself again. It all seems like such an effort.

Again, I am reminded of the Greek story of Sisyphus, whom the gods condemned to spend his life rolling a huge, heavy rock up a mountain.  Of course, when he finally got to the top, the rock would roll down again and the entire labour would begin again. Am I eternally condemned to rolling this metaphorical rock again and again?  Sometimes I even forget to get out of the way and get crushed by the weight of this rock as it rolls down again.  The answer surely, is to stop rolling the damned rock.  Who cares if it gets to the top? Where is the top, anyway?

I think that when I get this depressed I become very stupid and forget how to get out of this morass of misery.  I have lots of tools, lots of love and so many strategies to halt this endless spiral.  Right now it just seems such an effort.

I'll wait, after all - Spring comes...the grass grows by itself....guaranteed.