Getting up is almost too much effort, but I manage it eventually. Getting dressed is a huge challenge – sometimes I need help, or I end up a crying mess because I can’t manage it myself.
The day is dominated by reading – it takes my mind off my unhappiness and lets me lose myself in another world. Tears come easily and for no particular reason, and I can get very upset about tiny things.
Getting food is too much effort, so I don’t eat unless someone else makes me. Making decisions about what I want to eat is paralysing.
By evening I’m so would up that taking care of my kids is another challenge, one that I often can’t complete on my own. Meal times are particularly bad.
With the kids off to bed I’m back to being utterly paralysed – I don’t know what to do with myself, I feel guilty for not achieving anything all day. I read until it’s time to go to bed, then I drop off in a medicated haze.
A depressed day is unproductive, aimless, listless. Achieving anything is near-impossible. The guilt over not achieving anything makes it all worse. And the tears and misery exhaust me.
A depressed day is a day wasted that I can never have back, but I can’t do anything about that waste.