Waking up with Depression

I open eyes, slowly. Another day here, and already I can tell it’s going to be hard. I can tell it’s going to be hard by the ache that rests in my chest. By the tightness that settles in my lungs. And mostly by the lack of feeling anything. I can tell that today is going to be long and exhausting. I already want to go back to sleep. I don’t want to get up, I don’t want to look in the mirror, and I definitely don’t want to hear my minds automatic self loathing response to seeing my reflection. But I push the blankets back anyway, slide my feet to the floor, and slowly sit up, my head immediately falling into my hands, my elbows on my knees. I sit there for a few minutes, convincing myself that I can do this. I stand up, and shakily walk to the bathroom. I refuse to look in the mirror. I won’t let the thoughts that are constantly racing through my mind take over, not this early. I go through my daily morning routine, sans mirror. I walk out the front door. I pause for a moment, feeling the sun on my face, in the chilly October air. I get in my car, and drive to work, music blaring, and feel the ebb of a headache beginning to take hold. I try to keep the horrible thoughts at bay, as they begin telling me that I’m no good, that I’m going to mess up, that someone is going to die because of me. I pull into the parking lot, walk into the building, up 17 stairs, turn, and up 9 more. Through a total of 4 key carded doors. I clock in, sit down at my console, log into what seems like a million screens. Put my headset on. Go ready. I pop a few Tylenol, even though they never work anymore. The first call drops in my ear. I handle it, hang up, and it’s nothing but thoughts about how I could have handled it better. This process is repeated for the next 12 hours, with my headache, along with those self loathing thoughts, slowly getting worse with each call. The worse the call, the worse the thoughts are. At the end of my shift, I leave, feeling like I have failed. I feel like I have failed my callers, and my coworkers, both who depend on me to do my absolute best one hundred percent of the time. I drive home, taking the long way; the longest and most round about way I have yet to find. Thinking about all the people I have let down, all the people I have yet to let down, I hold the tears in. As I pull into my driveway, my tears dry, and my eyes brighten at the thought of my dog. She’s always happy to see me. I’m greeted by her at the door, jumping all over me, and howling like she always does. I go to my bathroom, shower, finish my bedtime routine, again, sans mirror. I don’t want the bad thoughts to be the last ones in my mind before I fall asleep. I crawl into bed, and my amazing little puppy burrows into my back, I close my eyes. I think about my day, and as I do, I try to remain as objective as possible. It’s something that I am still working on. I realize that my day has not been as bad as my thoughts would lead me to believe. That I have not failed like I thought I had. And the last thought I have before I drift off to dreamless sleep is, “You are enough.”