Sick

My kid came home with the flu Friday. She gave it to me. We had a lethargic weekend of fevers and stomach upset, chills and fatigue induced naps. When I felt better today and it didn’t dissipate…I thought I was golden. Which proves if you think, you stink.

If anything the dark depressive cloud is hovering with the weight of a 747 coming down on me. And my anxiety and paranoia have reignited, making me fear phones and mail boxes again. Mostly, I just feel sick in every way. I was physically sick. I am constantly mentally sick. And I am just sick of life, of existence, of every miserable part of this whole thing. I try to tell myself it’s the depression talking…

But I wonder, is it? Because I have been feeling like this for so long now, everything so joyless and so pointless and so frustrating…Is this just what I have become? This pathetic miserable excuse for a human being?

And to some extent, I fear that I have. Because I have been doing some hardcore thinking about my life, about my behavior and my actions and how I haven been a large contributor to my own misery. But what it goes back to is, I was never given a level playing field anyway. I didnt choose mental illness. I don’t ask that my thinking be distorted, that my moods course through like an infection driven fever. i didn’t ask for any of this. And while I have little doubt I’m not a great person and I am difficult beyond words…I look at all my failed relationships and still think, not entirely my fault because I can’t be the one thing everyone needs me to be. And that is, not mentally ill.

Or am I making excuses for myself and I am really just so putrid I should kill myself now?

Fuck you, depression, and fuck you, society. I am become anti social because I do have immense contempt for a society as a whole that demands individuality be stripped away to fit the mold. And when you can’t do that, then your life becomes pointless and you become a joke to society, who in all their infinite wisdom think mental illness is a choice or some sort of joke to be laughed up. I’m never gonna be cool with that no matter what stage of my illness I am in. I think depression just amps it all up and makes me realize I am less lonely when by myself because at least I have the intelligence to know mental illness isn’t a goddamn character weakness.

My head hurts. I am just sick. Sick of it all.

Let’s hope things improve as I enter week two in Viibryd. Frankly, I’m not sure how they can get worse when my own brain is telling to do the world a favor and die.

The rebellious streak I’ve always been chastised for…is probably the only thing that’s kept me going all this time. I rebel even against my own brain. Hell will freeze over before I give it the satisfaction of driving me off the deep end.

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