Help me I'm fallin'

Depression is a mind hole, but, falling into it, I feel no impact. There’s no point of contact. I bump against the walls of the well as I go down, but there’s never a bottom to land on. No place to say, “Well, I’m here; now it’s time to climb back up.”

It’s not even a bungee free-fall plummet. It’s not a roller-coaster’s descent. It’s not cushioned or feathered, it’s not soft or hard--it’s not even a slope. I just wake up one day and realize I’m falling.

I’m so used to falling by now that I never know when it’s time for help. When is it my ordinary dip and when is it a plunge? Where is the dividing line between “get over it” and “seriously Christine, this is bad”? I can’t feel that space.

I always ask my therapist, “What is normal sadness and what is clinical?” I ask, “When is it my need to pull myself out and when do I need your help?” He says he can’t answer that. He says, “No computer can do therapy because there is no scientific parameter to it. It’s too delicate.”

Wednesday, my husband said to me, “You need to call your doctor.” At the time I wanted to ignore his advice because I didn’t feel like calling anyone, which, coincidentally, is a sign of depression for me. I didn’t resent him, I didn’t feel offended by his request, I just didn’t want to do it. How did I know this wasn’t normal and that I needed help? I didn’t know, but I guess he did.

I called my doctor Thursday. I felt better Thursday, which made me feel kinda silly for calling, but Matthew said I should anyway. My doctor said—without any prompting on my part—“It’s good that you called and told me this. We need to get you back to baseline.”

Baseline. It sounds like the starting point of a base jump. Is that depression? A base jump with no parachute? No target, no landing zone?

How do I rewind? How do I un-jump backwards, pulled up by invisible wires, like a kung-fu movie in backward slow-mo?

Matthew wants me to come back. He wants to help. He sees me bobbing away and knows I’ve gone too far to reel myself back in. On Thursday, after I called my doctor, I told Matthew, “It’s good of you to have told me to call my doctor. I want you to know that. Sometimes I need that outside perspective of someone who can see me and tell me it’s time to check back in.” I hope he understands how much he helps me when I’m falling.