This post has been a long time coming and isn't easy to write. When it's written down for the world to read, it becomes real. When it becomes real, it becomes something I need to deal with seriously and responsibly. I'm not sure I'm ready or able to do that right now.

I'm going through a major bout of depression right now. The world as I see it is dark and heavy. It's hard to smile even when I want to. The things that I enjoy doing seem pointless. I fall asleep quickly, only to have nightmares and night sweats and body/head aches when I wake up. I don't feel like myself; I feel like someone who's been consumed with sadness and grief, yet can't possibly begin to explain the reasons why I feel this way. Nothing (besides my love life) is going wrong. I should be perfectly happy right now, and yet all I feel is tired and down all the time.

I've know that I haven't felt like myself for a few weeks now, but being at my pulpit this weekend was the straw that broke the camel's back. I literally needed to force myself to smile and be happy for 3 days straight. I tried so hard to be the Tracy they all know and love, and I realized quickly that faking joy and excitement leads to complete and utter exhaustion. From Friday night on, I longed for the comforts of home and the space to take off my smile and just feel the way I want to feel.

I've been through bouts of depression before, and I know what I need to do to pull myself out. At this point, 1 week from Rosh Hashanah, 5 months before my thesis is due, 7 months before my senior recital and 8 months from job placement, I have no other choice but to force myself out of this funk with medication and therapy.

But I don't want to do it. I don't even want to leave my apartment. Ever.

I don't want to admit I have a problem.

Because then it's real. I am the fat girl who's depressed and alone with no one to lean on. I am the cliche I've been fighting for the last 4 years.

Try writing a thesis on body image and self-love when you feel ugly and unlovable. Right now, the very idea of writing about this and presenting a recital on the topic makes me feel like a huge hypocrite.

There are no words to describe how badly I need a hug right now. A real, unselfish, all-encompassing embrace that makes me feel safe and protected and loved. And someone to tell me that everything's going to be okay and I will move past this terrible feeling and be able to feel happiness again.

Intellectually, I know I'll be fine. I've beat this before.

Emotionally, I'm not so sure.

Half a Cake

Tonight I ate half of a cake for dinner. I covered half of my half with almond butter before consuming it, alone, in front of the computer while reading old G-chat conversations with some of the guys I've dated in the past 6 months. By the time I came to my senses, I noticed half of the cake was gone. I cried (for about the 600th time today) and threw the other half of the cake away immediately. I nearly pulled a chunk out of the garbage to munch on, until I realized that was incredibly disgusting, closed the garbage bag and walked away.

It was SO Miranda Hobbes of me.

I've been in such a funk lately, and the more I try to figure out the reasons why, the funkier I feel. Truth is, it felt good to eat that cake. Comforting. Relaxing. Until the moment I realized half of it was gone. 30 minutes later, my stomach is starting to ache from all of the sugar. I'm almost positive I won't sleep tonight, even though I've been tempted to crawl into bed since 7pm.

I didn't want to eat half a cake tonight. I wanted to be held. I'm so longing for someone to put their arms around me and not let go until I tell them, only to hold on for a second longer after that. I actually tried to hug myself earlier. I wish I was kidding. It didn't have the desired effect--I must work on my self-hugging skills immediately. I have no idea what's wrong with me or how to work through whatever is going on in my head; all I know is that I want to be hugged, held so tightly I can barely breathe, more than anything in the world.

I'm trying to be gentle with myself as I work through this seemingly never-ending rough patch. But half a cake? Really?

Breathe. Tomorrow is another (sugarless) day.