  I am going through a particularly rough stretch of depression right now. My logical side knows this, is trying to process this, but cannot do anything about it.
I feel so empty inside. Someone push me in front of a bus now, and be done with it. This entry is from last night and this morning, just a stream of consciousness at the time I wrote it. 7/7/2004 6:09 PM I don’t often really feel honest emotions, good or bad. I act happy or sad or mad sometimes, but when the moment is over, I am surrounded by the grey.
It’s not a losing or winning, not an up or down. Just a flatline, a cold, emotionless zombie, a shell, not really alive, undead. I have a difficult time feeling emotionally close to anyone. I love Anne, but I am afraid we are not close anymore. It is hard to feel loved and at the same time have her be emotionally distant and silent. Dan has grown up to be as moody and brooding and angry as me, with occasional violent outbursts and frequent periods of self-isolation, because that’s what I taught him for 10 years.
Nikki has learned the anger also, but she expresses it much differently. My best friend lives 500 miles away and I never get to see her, Anne is jealous of our relationship, and she would not “let me” go see her on the recent road trip. It is impossible for me to feel close to anyone I work with now or previously, or anyone from college or high school.
I don’t enjoy things that should be fun for me. I could have enjoyed fireworks, the beach, playing music, going to dinner, having a night alone with Anne, playing a game, or whatever. I either did not enjoy it at all, or I maybe just was slightly pleased, but after the task or activity was done, it is back to normal life, with no real enjoyment or satisfaction at all. I feel bad about procrastinating and letting things stay in disarray, but not bad enough to anything about it.
The retirement fund is in a low-paying investment – I don’t care. The car needs a tire replaced – oh well, fix it later. Taxes need to be done – who cares, I have lots of time. The upstairs is a mess – whatever, if it is not urgent, screw it. Stuff to do in the yard, oh well, it can wait. I have become so indecisive and passive that I just don’t care or take any satisfaction in accomplishing things, and I just take the easy way out of any problem.
We bought our house, fine, now we move our shit, but nothing really changes. A co-worker wants to start a company, but it is easier to stay at my job and bitch about my career. Anne and I don’t communicate very well and I still feel very distant from her sometimes, but it is easier to say nothing and not cause trouble.
I don’t really look forward to anything right now. I have nothing to accomplish in my current career or job that will mean anything or give me any satisfaction at all. I get a paycheck, nothing more. I don’t enjoy work, I don’t care about work, I don’t care if things get accomplished or not, I don’t care if the company lives or dies or stays the same. Nothing I do there makes much difference, I don’t really care about any of the people there, and I could be (and maybe should be) replaced at any time I don’t feel like I will ever be a happy person.
I will survive being cold, distant, scared of people, isolating myself, and sinking into a grey blanketing fog, drowning in mist but not enough to die. The best I can do is try not to hurt anyone on the way into hell. 7/7/2004 6:43 PM I feel love for Anne, but it is more of a family or companionship love than a lover’s love.
Last night in bed, Anne was letting me know she wanted me. I had to talk myself into having sex, because even holding her, I realized it didn’t matter one way or another. On the nights when she is home in the evening to talk to, she usually would rather watch something on TV (I’m starting to hate television). She has been loving and comforting and caring and passionate, but those times are very rare. Usually I feel like our relationship is distant, silent, convenient, more like roommates than lovers.
I think I would feel different if Anne opened up to me a little more and let me know what she is thinking or feeling. I have asked several times over the past 6 months for feedback, a reaction, her thoughts or feelings about my depression and how it affects her and us.
She will tell me almost nothing. I believe she loves me, but I think I would feel much more positive about our relationship if we could talk more about what has happened to our relationship, our feelings, our love, and how we have changed since we met. Instead we talk about inane, small stuff like daycare, TV, Oprah, daycare kids, foster kids, more about daycare, my job, or mindless trivial things. 7/7/2004 7:39 PM I don’t care about going camping this next week. It will be nice to get away from work, but I have very little desire to spend several days camping with the rest of the family, and screaming kids.
Anne’s sister has adopted kids, and her mother has foster kids, so there will be 7 kids younger than 8 years old (not counting Nikki and Dan). It will be excruciating for me to listen to the constant whining and crying and yelling. I love camping where I can just sit and be peaceful with nature.
As usual, this will not be that kind of camping trip. 7/8/2004 8:04 AM It’s the depression talking. I need Anne, I need my family, I love them very much - I know this is true. But at the same time, the grey blanket won’t let me feel any lasting emotion, happy, sad, contentment, hurt. I will feel better for a few minutes, but the depression pulls me back in like gravity, like a magnetic field, inescapable, smothering, drowning. The wet, cold, grey blanket smothers out any spark or flame of ambition, dreams, feelings, positives or negatives I don’t want to talk or interact with anybody.
I am antisocial. When I don’t like people, it is the depression talking. It takes a tremendous amount of effort to not snap at everyone. I try to not look like I feel, because then people will ask if I am OK, or what is wrong. They don’t really want to know, they are just being polite and (social)? If I really tell them, it is too much information. Nobody likes a gloomy sad sack, nobody likes Eeyore, people want everyone to be happy and shiny and Feeling Good.
It’s not safe to tell the truth, so I keep it inside as much as possible, say nothing to anyone, I want it dark, hoping I can remain in the grey zone and avoid the light. The sun burns, sears, makes everything too bright and colorful. The fog is the depression - it is comforting in a perverse way. I don’t care or don’t want to do anything, just sit in the grey zone and be fucked up, be miserable, be invisible. I do nothing, it does nothing, we all do nothing, the world just stops for a while when you are in the fog. I think I could just sit and do nothing for days, weeks, months, just not care about anything, not give a shit whether the world exists or not.
I almost wish a disaster would happen, either that or win the lottery. Either way, my life would either be over, be more interesting, or be free from my current life. Disaster, lottery, who cares - at least it is something different than the fog. 
