Natali Nicole Notes: Foreplay

I woke up this morning and knew it was back. I had set the alarm for early so that I could try to work on a piece of writing for you guys. The one I had promised in the holiday video. The one I thought I already had finished. I had been reading and rereading pieces I had written in the hopes that the words would hit me differently and I’d deem them worthy to be posted. On the contrary, with each read I felt less and less confident about sharing them and started to try and force the muse out of hiding. Inspire me to write some new piece. Hence the early alarm.

But when my iPhone trilled at 8 am [yes, that’s considered early for me] I knew I wasn’t going to have the quietly successful writing morning I envisioned, likely modeled after some movie with some white girl I’ve seen. Instead, I felt anxious. The kind that cloyingly pulls at you so it feels almost pleasurable. The tug of anxiety quickening your pulse lustily. It’s a familiar friend. But that’s just the foreplay.

I sensed it coming maybe a week and a half ago. But I thought, “I’ll shake this,” so confidently that I almost fooled myself. I tried to warn Blake last night. Thank him for what he does and acknowledge my being difficult. Trying to warn him maybe. Apologize in advance this time. Trying to see if he already knew…

I stood a beat too long in the mirror when I dragged myself out of the bed at 8:50. That’s when I knew. I felt the familiar sting of tears forming and forced myself to stop. “You’re fine. You’re fine,” I told myself out loud, but quiet enough not to be heard over the stream of the shower. 

But I wasn’t quite fine. So I walked out briefly to grab the coconut oil. On my way back in to the bathroom I hugged Blake since he was awake, hoping it would end the anxious seduction. After a few beats, I returned to the shower. I swayed in the warmth of the water for at least five minutes before recognizing I hadn’t started to actually shower. 

After emerging from the bathroom I tried to focus on getting dressed, but I felt sidetracked even though my mind wasn’t focused on any other thing. I had to tell him. I had to say something before I broke. But it was so hard to say out loud. So it came out hesitantly as I tried to make it a casual admission.

“Babe, I think I might have maybe some mild form of depression. Cause you know, like sometimes I feel the regular ups and downs. But then, I feel times where there’s like, a dip. And I go through the cycles of that. And during the dips, it’s like…really hard to get up, not just regular ‘I don’t want to get up.’ And I feel all these emotions but then it’s hazy cause I don’t know why. But then, I don’t know if I’m just being dramatic and it’s just normal life.”

Likely sensing that I was trying to mask this as something casual, Blake tried to follow suit. “I’m sure you’re fine babe. Everyone has bad days.” My tears streamed silently for a moment as I tried to put on my socks. But his answer unsettled me.

I’ve always had the suspicion that I may have some emotional issue or imbalance, but I have always been too afraid to see someone about it. If they confirmed my hunch, then what did that mean about me? How would that change me or my perception of myself, or others’ perception of me? And, worse, what if I wasn’t? What if I’ve been consciously stunting my own development as an adult by allowing myself brooding, wasted days in the name of my mental health? What if I’m just a dramatic brat who needs to grow up? 

And so I started to sob. Because I am scared of being depressed, but I am petrified of being a “normal” person who is just unable to cope. I’d always thought that I was being strong and working through my own issues, but it began to dawn on me that I was allowing fear to keep me in the dark. 

I sobbed in Blake’s arms and apologized for doing so. I tried to mop myself up and finish getting dressed for work. I finally managed a sock, but I couldn’t hold it. I dissolved again. Through tears I admonished myself, “Natali get it together. You have to get dressed. I have to go to work.” But having to say that to myself only made me cry harder. I fell back into Blake’s embrace, apologizing for ruining his morning. Apologizing for being this. Until my sobs quieted and I drifted off to sleep as he stroked my back. 

My name is Natali, and I [might] suffer from depression.