The other day, somebody told me that I ‘suck at conversation.’ Despite thinking ‘that’s a bit rude…’ I whispered to myself, ‘yeah, I know.’ Since this depressive episode started over a year ago, I’ve struggled massively to have deep, meaningful, satisfying conversations. Depression has made me dumb, uninteresting and quiet. Very, very, very quiet.
Last year, bit by bit, my identity as a passionate creative who was forever learning, started to wither. I couldn’t remember the titles of my favourite songs, or all the different names a polar bear has or any of the content of the book I’d last read. This became progressively worse until my brain was pretty much vacant. And that’s how my brain is today…uninhabited. All of the knowledge I’ve gathered over the years, gone.
I need to rebuild my life and that thought is daunting. My mother said I should try and see it as something exciting, but it’s challenging. My end goal is to live a simple life in a cabin in the far north, and I’ll do anything I need to in order to achieve that. Though I can’t help but feel that it’s what I need right now.