My depression always has one song it listens to… 

Hey!

There’s been a robbery.

She stole my heart

and took off on me.” 





Over and over again, I would listen to Lime Cordial, as the only way to get through the day. On the bus to Uni.. in the bathroom… at the gym….



My therapist had warned me to stop avoiding my feelings. Doing what my dad does best- like a shark- just keep moving and if you stop, you sink.

And he was right- being an adult, you can’t stop. 

Or your rent doesn’t get paid, your friends aren’t your friends anymore and your kids eat McDonald’s for dinner for the 4th time that week. 



“Stop bottling them up or they will overtake you,”  my therapist warned. And frustratingly so, she was also right.

As here they were, making me feel nothing. Benching me to the chairs on the shoe floor in Myer- as my feet wore the most sparkly shoes I could find and yet still nothing- I felt nothing. 

The only time I felt kind of okay was when I was going back to sleep for an hour or three, longer than usual. 





On Monday, this feeling began as my rose coloured glasses fell off on a walk through Newtown. 

The walk was for a Facebook marketplace ad. I decided to take my dog and not check where in Newtown due to my terrible organisation skills.

To my horror, as we were halfway there, I realised where the walk was leading. 

It was a familiar path I took with someone I rather liked, a few months ago.

It remember feeling something different as I walked with him and his oversized dog, to grab coffees. I remember thinking how funny it was, that doing something so banal could be rather exciting yet blissful. 

It was something I hadn’t felt in a long time; feeling safe with someone I was entangled with. 

Every shop I passed, my mind pulled me into another memory of us. 

I looked into a vintage men’s shop, and there the same top hung from, when he went in to check the price, as I waited outside with the dog.

And then a few doors down, I remember dropping into my teacher’s shop, and her peering behind me and seeing him, waiting for me.

I remember wearing his oversized top and him complimenting me- saying it looked better on me and us wearing matching caps. Like we were a salt and pepper set, that got lost in a giant box on the way to the warehouse. And here we were, with scratches and opposing features, yet we happened to find our way back to each other.

I remember after things fell apart, going down this same road and feeling these memories, almost sharp to touch. So I avoided it for a while. And then eventually I ventured back with other dates for that odd French bar I liked but even then, it never felt the same. 



I remember him picking apart things he originally liked about me –  like he was trying to convince himself not to like me anymore. 

“You’re so funny, I’m so glad I can be myself with you,” turned into, “Wow, you’re so dramatic aren’t you?”

” You look like Marilyn Monroe, you’re so beautiful…. Look at what you’re wearing, you look like a butch lesbian. “

“Yeah we should see other people- you really can’t be alone can you?”



As I walked along the street, I sighed a moment of relief as the app led us down a right turn and away from his place. 

Walking home, I felt confused. I thought I had let this go but this walk fuelled all these feelings to come alive again- like they were just waiting for me to acknowledge them…







After Monday’s walks, I didn’t want to see people. Depressed me grew tired more easily, preferred to sleep under a pile of pillows and wore hats.

Perhaps what added to this feeling, was my dad’s common complaint that it was just another day…another day… another day of boring.

I wish they taught us this in high school, that life is about waiting. 

And even if your working towards something that brings meaning, the in-betweens can be so grey and monotonous.

Big-picture-thinking will be more fulfilling but often more lonely and less exciting.

And no food or money or exercise or people you date or don’t date- would change anything. Not really.

Of late, I felt unable to swallow this human feeling that life was long and nothing I did would matter.

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