Today I’m home from the hospital. I had a stay of five days
in a psychiatric hospital for depression
with suicidal ideation. I’m no
stranger to stays in psychiatric hospital because of my bipolar but I could tell
there was something different about this depression. It was not the norm of my
bipolar depression. And I hadn’t had depressive episode in almost a year. This
felt different.
To give you a glimpse into my world of
depression I call it the Nothing Feeling. I never see the episodes coming. They
sneak up on me. But when they make their presence known it’s too late and I am
at their mercy. You would think after 40 years by now I would be able to spot
them a mile away. Maybe my brain just becomes too weak and unable to recognize
them; depression. 
I would feel nothing. I call it the Nothing Feeling. There is no happiness. No joy. No sadness. Not even depression. Absolutely nothing. Calling it depression gives it no justice. I wouldn’t want to exist. I wouldn’t want to die either.
Thinking is all but non-existent. Imagine trying to think feeling nothing? It’s impossible. What minimal thinking I can muster up is reduced to thinking how you don’t want to do anything.
And that’s what I do. Nothing. Exhaustion sets in and even rolling over in the bed I have secluded myself to is a chore. It is where I would spend most of the day with low music in the background. I listen to Standards 90% of time and it seems to fit the occasion. It’s just to have something fill my mind.
That is the trap my mind is in during my depressions.
