I have this problem that has plagued me ever since I was diagnosed with depression. I avoid things. I don’t honestly know why. I thought that maybe I really didn’t want to deal with the social capacity of things. Or maybe I just didn’t want to deal with the organization of it all. Case en point. My good friend told me about a great ball game to go to that was going to have fireworks after it. She told me this on Thursday, and said she and some other mutual friends were going. I loved the idea of it, and I even looked up tickets for it. When she texted me again on Friday to ask if we had thought about it, I told her I didn’t have a chance to talk to my husband yet (lie) and I would get back to her once we had discussed it (probably another lie). It got me through Friday, and when I texted my husband he sounded interested. “Let’s talk about it more later” I texted him (lie) and went about my day. We didn’t talk about it. And now it’s Sunday, the day of the game and fireworks, and I realized I didn’t do anything about it.
The weird thing is, I knew it was there, waiting, hanging out in the back of my mind. I KNEW it was there, but pretended it wasn’t, pretended “not to remember” as I figured my texts (or lack thereof) would indicate. I got busy with other things, and just kept pushing it the back of my mind. It was definitely there, but I just pretended to forget it.
I didn’t though. Forget it, that is. I knew about it, thought about it, and wondered how we could work it out. I tried to push it from my mind, as my aloof text would make it seem, but I ruminated over it and discussed it with myself. Why would I do this? I haven’t a clue. I have done this for the past 13 or so years. Ever since I was unofficially diagnosed with depression (and then later I was official), I avoided certain situations. On purpose. And I felt guilty the whole time I did it.
I will never understand why I do it. I avoid certain situations because I suppose I feel like it’s easier to do so than to deal with it. But ultimately, I don’t. I think about it after, I wonder what it would’ve been like, I regret it, and I ruminate. Oh lord, do I ruminate. But I do it all the same. I have missed playdates, fun nights out, and now, I chance to go to the ball game with my kids. I thought at times it might be because I am homebody or because I’d rather not be social. But that’s the even weirder thing: I love to socialize. I love to be out, dancing, chatting it up, enjoying a night out. So why the hell do I do it?
I wish I could tell you. Maybe if I could, I wouldn’t be here. Instead I would’ve been at the game, making memories that I would talk about, Facebook check-in about, and think about tomorrow, when my older two would be so tired from the fun night we had that I would complain. Instead, I will sit at home, get them ready for a shower, drink a beer, and then probably end up in bed myself by 8:30 pm. And regret it over and over.