here we go again

I have been wrestling with depression for the last several days. When the depression gets to the point of being unbearable, I drive. I drive around the city, or I drive along the river, or I go across the river and drive the narrow and dark country roads of northern Kentucky. Last night depression swarmed over me, and I took a drive down to Big Bone Lick, then past the haunted graveyard, drove right by the airport, and then through Covington before returning home. These drives give me time to think, time to pray, time to wrestle with what is going on inside me. Sometimes they help. Sometimes they make the situation worse. I have not been taking my medicine, and the reason is that I don’t want to be made chemically balanced. It’s twisted, I know, but here’s my logic: I don’t feel as if I deserve to be happy. I feel that if I go on medicine, and experience some sort of emotional balance in my life, then I will be betraying reality. I don’t have much to be happy about. I have much to be anxious about. My life is plummeting in a downward spiral—or so it seems—and I need to acknowledge that. I thought about this as I drove back to Cincinnati from the Kentucky highlands, and I decided to start taking my medicine again; mayhaps that logic itself is intricately tied to the out-of-control brain chemicals? So I started taking my medicine again, and I’m reaping the consequences: total exhaustion and aching bones and muscles. It should pan out in about a week.