One of the neat things about depression is that it swallows up your energy like a starving hippo. Even the morning basics of getting up and getting dressed take gargantuan chomps out of your already limited energy stores.
Going out and interacting with people becomes a near-insurmountable mission. If social behaviour is somehow achieved, through the fog of a depressed brain, then coming out the other side feels like you’ve just dragged an intransigent hippo thrice around a race track. And when said hippo has already been chewing on your energy levels, the results are total exhaustion.
Focusing on things around you requires more concentration than usual, and often you’re so busy thinking about the damned hippo that’s giving you so much hell that you lose track of what you’re supposed to be thinking about before you got sidetracked.
Every little task feels like another lap of the block with Hilda, your newly-named hippo. She’s not the most co-operative of hippos, possibly because even though she’s eating all your energy, there wasn’t much of it to start with, so she’s still starving.
After a day of doing your best to drag Hilda around with a smile painted on, collapsing at home seems to be the only option. Although it’s often not too relaxing, because Hilda’s favorite perch is on top of you.
Today I took Hilda out, brought her home, and survived the exercise. It wasn’t easy. And tomorrow probably won’t be any easier. Hilda’s growing, you see, and it takes more and more effort every day to get anything done.