On the Days Depression Makes You Feel Nothing at All

“I’m not being lazy. I just don’t see the point.”

Today is a blah day.

It isn’t that there is anything terribly wrong today. There are issues looming, yes, but there are always issues of late. There is nothing pressing though.

It is just a blah day, a day where I lay in bed, struggling to find a reason to get up. I have had to pee for a couple hours now. Yet, the dull ache in my bladder is not enough to pull me from under my covers. I should probably get a drink too and brush my teeth. Maybe get dressed and get a bite to eat. I have been awake for more than five hours now, even before the sun rose. Yet, here I still lay.

I feel blah. While the world around me continues with its hustle and bustle, I have no motivation, no desire to do anything. Nothing seems interesting or important. Nothing is pressing enough to pull me from this funk. I would go back to sleep if I could, call in sick from life itself. I feel like nothing, not myself. I feel numb.

Days like this are common with depression. Those who have never struggled often assume that depression is all bouts of random sadness and tears. Yes, I have those days, too, and it is draining when everything and anything feels heart-wrenching and makes me want to cry. Yet, even worse, perhaps, than the days when I feel everything too strongly, are those days I feel nothing at all.

On these days, I have trouble pulling myself up or doing anything. I’m not being lazy. I just don’t see the point. I am pulled into this gray abyss, where there is no purpose, no joy, no motivation, no will to live. It isn’t that I’m suicidal and actively want to die, either. I just have no will to live today. The emptiness is all-consuming.

People suggest I should just “try” to be happy or to be positive. If only it were this simple. Again and again, the “should be” and “could be” options roll around in my mind, but I am numb to them all. Deep down, I know I should be getting up, doing something, living life.

Yet, my brain has me in a death lock. “What’s the sense?” and “Why bother?” it parrots to me again and again. Its voice is booming and deafening. I can hear nothing else. I would love to just smile, think a happy thought and have it vanish away like a puff of smoke, but it is solid and real to me. It takes the form of four solid walls, caging me in, holding me hostage, refusing to budge or listen to reason.

Those blah days are the worst because I feel trapped in this numbness. I cannot escape. I never know whether it will last one day or one week. There is never an end in sight, never a scheduled sweet release. Blah days drag on and on until at some point I begin to feel everything too strongly again. On blah days, I would welcome the tears, the anguish, the pain and the struggling just to feel anything at all.

It has been more than hours now, and I’ve barely managed to write a few paragraphs. Yet, those feel like a tremendous accomplishment. I call it a victory. I have done something, which is more than I am able to achieve on most blah days. I still have to pee, though the dull ache has grown into a steady cramp. Breakfast time has come and gone, and lunch time has arrived. Yet, I still don’t have any desire to eat anything, let alone get up.

There are calls I should make and things I should be doing. Yet, my depression is still echoing in my head that I shouldn’t bother, that nothing is worth the effort. It tells me to stay in bed, just let this day drift on by, that it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. It is all I can hear. It is deafening. I am adrift in a sea of hopelessness and emptiness. I feel paralyzed.

I swear I am not being lazy. I’m just trapped in a battle with my own mind. I feel lost and alone. I feel trapped in this emptiness. I feel nothing. I feel numb. I feel blah.



This post originally appeared on Unlovable.
B.L. Acker
I am a 40-year-old mother of three. I have survived physical, mental, emotional and sexual abuse, a failed marriage and a long engagement imploded by my partner’s repeated infidelities. I have been diagnosed with major depression, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and anxiety disorder. I have many facets and have filled many roles. At different times in my life, I have been a student, a teacher, a mother, a daughter, a fiance, a wife, an artist and an author. Throughout my life, I have been both strong and courageous, weak and afraid. I may be a product of my experiences and choices, but I refuse to let them define me. After years of suffering in silence, I have found my voice. My first book, “Unlovable: A Story of Abuse and Depression from Someone Drowning in the Abyss,” is available for purchase in both paperback and e-book versions on Amazon.com and at barnesandnoble.com.

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