Getting old may be an adventure for some folks and I’ve had a few days here and there where it seemed to be an interesting occupation. This isn’t one of those. This is one of the ‘Life Sucks and Aging Sucks Worse’ times.
There is a Me stuck in among the wrinkles and pains that is still happy and excited and full of life but it is getting more and more buried in the reality of becoming old. My brain can no longer keep up with technology or economics or politics. Looking around at the world it doesn’t even want to try. My attitude is more frequently sour and my expectations more often grim.
I’ve lived a lifetime of depression but denied the possibility that I was depressed. Slather enough denial on it and it doesn’t exist, right? I can be bright and cheery, see? Watch me laugh. See my clever jokes. As long as there is company the sadness can be ignored and when I am alone I’ll just look elsewhere and think about something else. The depression doesn’t go away but it can be managed.
And year after year it is harder to laugh it off. The laugh gets thinner. The tears get closer to the surface.
The thick shell of my life has gotten a lot less sturdy. There are cracks. Things are leaking out. I’m crying more often. Laughing less. There are more days when I think about not getting out of bed.
I could handle depression without old age. I think I could handle old age without depression. Having both seems to be losing the battle with both. And it sucks.