This is a piece of black and white art depicting a depressed man laying down in bed with a depression monster reaching out from the corner of the room. There's a clock on the wall, but the numbers are falling off, relaying that time doesn't matter when you're depressed. There's a window above the man in bed with nighttime and daytime shown. Dirty socks are on the floor, and a bedside lamp is knocked over on the floor.

Depression: The Big Black Blob

When Depression Greets You In The Morning…

A Day In The Life Of Being Depressed

There’s a big black blob in the corner of my room when I wake up some days. Those are the days I know I’m depressed. It comes out of the corner and lays down on me as soon as I open my eyes. Depression is heavy. My plan was to go to the gym this morning. I’m not so sure that’s going to happen anymore. I roll over in bed. So does the blob. I reach for my dog, Zarra, to comfort me. She crawls over and nestles between me and the sheets. I believe Zarra is trying to comfort me, but between her and the blob, I’m not moving for a while. Good thing I don’t work today, I’d be late. Or fired.

When I do eventually get out of bed, only for the need to use the restroom and the growing guilt for not letting my dog out yet, the big black blob follows me. Down the hall to the toilet. Then to the back door to let Zarra out. She’s giddy. I wish I had her energy. I wish I had her simple emotional wheel – or – what appears to be a relatively definitive and simple emotional range. Does my dog ever get depressed? I wonder. We wait at the door for Zarra to finish. Me, and the blob. I’m thirsty… Damn. I need to take my morning medication. 

This is one of the mornings I question whether or not these antidepressants and their compatriot medications are even working. 

I take them anyway.

I’ve learned my lesson the hard way too many times… messing with my medication has a 100% success rate at landing me in less than ideal situations. I attempt to take a moment to breathe and remember how far I’ve come in recovering over the years. There’s no time for that today, the big black blob is clawing at me… “Just go back to bed,” it whispers in my ear. “You can just rest today. You don’t have any commitments, check your calendar.” So, I obliged. It’s right, I don’t have any obligations today. A lost day for me, but nobody else will be the wiser. These are the kind of days that make it difficult to remember that I am not always in a depressive funk. This too shall pass… I hope.

I slink back into bed and Zarra is hot on my tracks. After tucking myself back in, she jumps on me. These Australian Shepherds are smart dogs. What does she want? … Huh… I force her to cuddle with me, but she’s reluctant. Thirty or fifty minutes later (time eludes me when I’m this depressed), I realize I forgot to feed her breakfast. I don’t mind not eating breakfast, or lunch, and some days I don’t have the energy to put any food in my mouth at all. That doesn’t fly for this dog. I argue with the big black blob for a while longer – we agree I can get up to feed her in fifteen minutes. 

Depression Almost Always Gets Its Way

Five hours later, Zarra has been fed something more akin to brunch than breakfast, and I have been back in bed trying to sleep for the last three and a half hours, give or take. Trying is the keyword here. No sleep is happening. Instead the big black blob – (who promised me rest, remember?) – has been showing me slideshows of my life’s pitfalls and traumas. Despite its black and white appearance, looking into its void-like hollow eyes for sympathy only leads to roller coaster rides through the past in full color. Depression has a dark sense of humor. 

Nothing will get done today. 

I would call a friend, but I don’t want to risk the big black blob leaching through the telephone line and infecting anyone else. Although I know it possesses exactly as much power as I give it, today I’ve accepted the loss. 

Big Black Blob = 1  

Jake Wade = 0 

I open my computer to try to find something relaxing to watch on Netflix… it’s too overwhelming. So I marvel at the idea that something invisible can take away my enthusiasm for enjoying even the simplest, easiest pleasures. I roll over in bed. Wow, I stink. Unfortunately, there’s about a 2% chance I’m going to summon the motivation to take a shower today. I KNOW for a fact that a hot shower would alleviate some of the depression, but I just don’t have the energy.

Time Bleeds By, I Can’t Be Bothered By It

Evening approaches and I have yet to eat anything all day. That’s not going to happen either. Mindlessly I open up social media and scroll through content online I have no connection to. It pacifies the big black blob. I really need to brush my teeth when I get up to take my evening medication. I cannot let the blob cost me time, money, and pain at the dentist. That’s where I draw the line. 

I set three alarms to wake me up to take my meds and brush my teeth. The last alarm goes off at 11:00pm. I snooze it, like I did the first two. Around 3:45am, I wake up. With the guilt of a child caught in the cookie jar, I get out of bed. I take my “evening” meds at 3:50am, and brush my teeth.

One thing got done today.

Scroll to Top