These things are becoming more difficult to write every year because I’m not even sure what to say. I’m going to be honest, I don’t know if internet people are interested in the goings on of my life anyway. But I am committed to this thing and I am going to write it and we’ll see how it goes.
I cannot tell you what happened for most of this year. The Instagrams dried up, my Twitter feed dried up. The thing is I can’t remember most of this year. The one thing we don’t talk about when we talk about depression is the time it takes from you. I have no memories of the time between March and August of this year. I absolutely cannot tell you what I did with half of this year. It appears all I did was sleep. And it’s not just a loss of time, it’s a loss of pleasure, a loss of the things that made me who I thought I was.
This is not a victory post, don’t mistake this for a testimony. That’s not what’s happening here. What’s happening is I am struggling to claw back what I remember from this year and do the typical thing of trying to find some good in a year that was essentially rubbish. If you were looking for a feel-good story, I’m sorry you’ve come on the wrong day. Come back tomorrow, maybe there’ll be someone to give you what you’re looking for.
What I will not do is undermine the effort it takes to exist as a human me on this planet. I will not sugar-coat the work it takes to keep trudging on when your entire self is trying to die. I will not skim over the fact that there hasn’t been a day this year when I have gone to bed without taking more than 5 tablets. I’m not doing that here. There has been a lot of pain this year, I have plumbed to depths of despair I never thought possible. The hurt has come from almost every area of my life – work, family, friends, church, God.
If this sounds a bit hopeless, good. I don’t think I can afford to pretend like everything is/has been okay because it has not been. Reader, there’s no good trying to bring resolution to a story that is still in progress. What will do me good is sitting with my pain, talking about it and not hiding from it. It really hurts and it’s not going anywhere if I don’t do something with it. So here I am, writing about it in the hope that writing helps. What will do me good is acknowledging of the shape I’m in. It’s not good for anyone to be in this shape. And it has become increasingly clear that I must find a way to live with it because this is the new normal, it seems.
So yeah, there you go. I’ve been tasked with writing about a year I have no memories of, a year I really would like to forget existed, but things don’t work that way. To do that would require going to places I’m not quite sure I should be going to on the internet (believe it or not, I have boundaries, you know). So I’ve done something – this was not half-hearted, I assure you. Thanks for reading to the end and I hope the other days give you the hope and joy you come to this column for.
From the very first end of year review series in 2011, Moyin has opened for us. The bravest soldiers are found on the front-lines. Putting one foot in front of the other while staring down a hostile familiar enemy is nothing short of brave. We celebrate (your) 2018 because you were in it. We celebrate you. Thank you very much Moyin.
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