Archive for the depression Category

Mental Paralysis

Posted in depression with tags , , , on November 27, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

It’s finally my ‘me-free’ day after 5 straight days with my kid home from school and I find myself mentally paralyzed. I wanted to leap in and start cleaning today but it’s not happening. I know part of it is the furnace being out, it’s cold and I become very inert when I am cold. Weird part is, it’s fifty degrees outside and warmer than inside. Sometimes I swear my body’s thermometer is broken.

I need to clean. Like, mega clean. Hell, I’d like to sit at the desktop computer and try to write. But I am cold and low and for whatever reason, my brain is not cooperating with the desire to do anything but sit in front of streaming video. It’s like this sometimes. The anxiety and paranoia mount and add up to the point where I think if I move around something bad is going to happen. It lacks logic but then, anxiety disorder lacks logic so it seems, well, ha, logical.

There are days when I can force myself out of the paralysis brought on by the paranoia and anxiety. I don’t believe this is going to be one of them. I am going to try not to browbeat myself, though, because Saturday, even after my meds making me so sick I wanted to die, I did dishes, folded some laundry, took the vacuum apart and fixed it…Sometimes the mind cooperates and sometimes it doesn’t. There is no ‘snap out of it’ bullshit. Maybe later the paralysis will lift and I will get stuff done. Or maybe my victory for the day is getting up before my kid and making sure she had hot cocoa with fruit for breakfast. After nearly two weeks of menstrual dysphoria and pain, on top of the seasonal depression, just getting up after hitting snooze three times, and making hot cocoa and sitting up while she gets ready is a mega accomplishment.

It seems laughable to so many people that I view it that way, but then, it was a counselor who taught me to view the rough days that way. If you accomplish even one small goal, against the mental inertia and paralysis, then you can ride it out until it passes and not have to feel shitty about yourself or lack of accomplishment. You did something, and that counts. Now if that therapist (if he is still alive, he moved away a long time ago, breaking my heart cos he really was awesome) would just get his own talk show and tell the masses that it’s okay not to be a whirlwind all the time, especially when anxious and depressed. Seems these days the only way to reach mindless masses is through TV or social media.

Then again, I wouldn’t wish that on Paul, he was too a good a therapist, and human, to fall into the vapid wasteland of today’s society even if his message is an important one. I consider myself blessed to have had him as a counselor, even if it was less than two years before he moved away.

Today I am just going to ride it out. Therapist’s orders, so to speak. And while the self flogging is almost certain because hey, self loathing is depression’s constant companion- I am going to try to keep it from becoming 50 Shades Of Grey self flogging.

Nothing sexy or even curiously kinky about convincing yourself you’re a useless husk of humanity. Besides, depression will put its two cents’ worth in, no extra flogging necessary.

Somehow, whips and chains seem less sadistic than mental health disorders.


Suckage Level Critical

Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , , , on November 9, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

So as if my own mental problems weren’t crippling enough…I got a call from my kid’s teacher yesterday informing me there was an arm wrestling incident in the cafeteria and my daughter was one of the ringleaders, or well, participants. She was viewed doing it, then lied to the teacher and started bawling and denying, so the teacher had to leave her alone for 5 minutes to calm down. Only then did Spook fess up but she started crying some more about being a follower and she can’t help herself. She was just going along because devil girl J told her she would if she was really her friend. (Um, could there be a better example of a follower than my daughter?)

The teacher was disturbed, saying that it seems Spook is overwhelmed with too many thoughts all at once and thus it makes it hard for her to concentrate, focus, and perform accordingly as well as make good choices.


I had been expecting a call because Spook told me the other day a boy wanted to kiss her during lunch hour and I told her…you will get in trouble. She said she didn’t care and at this point, I’ve gone school of hard knocks with parenting. But ARM WRESTLING??? Kids rough house, sure, but the way the teacher made it sound this was some major episode. And I’ve seen my daughter at work with the emotional manipulation when she’s caught doing something wrong. She will bring up something that happened 4 years ago to draw attention away from her wrong doing and paint herself as a victim. I wish I were making this up, but I even asked my uber critital-and grandchild coddling mother- about this behavior in Spook and she, too, has seen it. That’s no small deal, my mom admitting I’m not being a critical monster and my child has some…issues.

I was honestly at a loss what to say. I’ve been feeling overwhelmed as is lately and while Spook’s got some stuff going on, for the most part, until this year, it rarely went on at school. Now the school is seeing the behaviors and instead of suggesting counseling or what not, when i said I didn’t know what to do….the teacher said, “What do you do…” UM…Not helpful.

So I steeled myself for dealing with Spook when she got home, which these days means, turning on the sound recorder on the phone, because she is a ticking time bomb when told no or caught doing wrong. And I wasn’t wrong. She went OFF. I tried to talk to her, empathize (without condoning her behavior), tell her we’re a lot alike in that we have trouble processing too much at once and we need to be besties as a support system….I may as well have been talking to a wall. She just blew me off, blamed it all on J and “I’m a follower, I can’t help it”, then when she asked for a cookie…and I said have some fresh watermelon instead, you’re wound up enough…

She started hitting me, snarling, trying to break the computer, the phone. She was like a rabid animal, but she was also….smiling while doing all this. And all I could do was hold her off with an arm and try to talk calmly but when she went after the cat’s throat, I grabbed the phone and threatened to call 911. I am no longer joking, I fear my child when she gets like that. And she started saying nooo, don’t call the police…but kept snarling…She knows she is doing wrong. What I can’t discern is if she simply doesn’t care or if it’s like much of my aggressive behavior (before mood stabilizers) where it just sort of had to burn itself out before it passed and after it passed I felt exhausted and vulnerable and disgusted with myself…

She eventually calmed down but there was no remorse on her part. She said sorry, but it was as hollow as an apology could be. And she snuck a cookie behind my back and then tried to lie about it but ha, she kissed me and I could smell the mint on her breath. She has no compulsion about lying. And every time, it’s “Fine, I lied, but you told me no and it makes me mad when you tell me no.”

My stomach ache just got worse after that incident, plus knowing R was going to stop by…But at least she calmed down. Her attitude didn’t improve much, she kept putting her feet up on my chair and yanking my hair then when I said ouch, please stop, she got indignant like it was my fault for not having a scalp made of cast iron. How she can go from such a sweet kid to such a…meanie so quick is baffling but then again, I’ve seen it in myself so I can’t throw stones. Difference is, and it’s a big one for me- I have ALWAYS felt bad after any of my tirades. She has no guilt and I do find that disturbing. I am not expecting her to grasp full blown grown up guilt but even at 8, there should be some inkling of conscience, especially when causing someone else pain physically or emotionally, and she has none. Her only sympathy is for herself.

It pains me to admit this. I wish I was just a petty mentally trashed parent making her kid look bad to absolve myself of whatever but others see this behavior in her, so it isn’t just me. I may not be parent number one worldwide, but my kid has some issues going on that aren’t my fault. Whether it’s ADHD or bipolar or hell, it could be bipolar with the attentiion deficit as a secondary…But she’s only 8 and the professionals won’t label her anything other than ADHd,if that. It doesn’t excuse me having to live in fear that my 8 year old is going to physically attack me, and our belongings, on a daily basis. So first thing today i called the pediatrician’s office and left a note for the nurse about the ADHD paperwork and what the teacher said about Spook’s issues with focus. They have got to do something to help her, and help me. There is no planet in which a child hitting the parent is acceptable.

I sort of got lucky last night inasmuch as R didn’t stay more than ten minutes, he stopped to give me money for gas and such so I can continue to do his bidding at the shop. And I tried ten different ways to tell him I can’t keep this up and he just blew right by me, telling me what a big help I am, and I am going to end up with a better car and blah blah blah…And there he is talking about working 13 hours a day, plus spending two hours a night helping family and friends with their broken stuff and he’s worn down so I guess I didn’t have the gall to tell him about my impending breakdown. Even if I did, he’d dismiss me. I tried to talk to him about Spook’s behavior, seeking advice from a fellow parent, but he blew that off, too. So the question is…If he cares so little about me except as someone to do his bidding…why am i so loyal as to basically wear myself to the bone and end up hospitalized?

Something’s got to give. I just hope it doesn’t result in my child being taken away because I can’t control her or me in a straightjacket because everyone around me can’t grasp that mental illness is as serious as physical illness. No one would fault me for needing a few days to recover from even an outpatient surgery like an appendectomy. Yet my brain is on overload, my health is being impacted, and I am made to feel like a lazy monster because I need to stop the world a few days and reboot.

My hatred of the world is metastasizing as quickly as my mind is disintegrating. The world deserves it, though. I don’t.Trying your hardest should not result in being broken down and destroyed psychologically. It just shouldn’t.


Posted in anxiety disorders, depression with tags , , , on November 8, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

It’s started to happen, the telltale signs are adding up to major impairments in my daily functioning and health. It’s always like this. Tis why a couple months back when R proposed this whole “help me with the shop and I’ll buy you a car thing” I wrote the post called “I’ve Got This…til I don’t.” And let me tell you, we are closer to the don’t than do part now.

It’s only been a couple of months, less than twenty hours out of my entire week, really mind numbing technically low level stress stuff. I could pretty much do it asleep and for no more business than there is, I actually could likely sleep most days. And yet…my stress and anxiety level, as usual, are taking a toll on my physical health, my sleep, everything.

Monday just the thought of returning to dish time had me throwing up with anxiety. Last night I abruptly woke in the middle of the night and spent four hours running to the bathroom with stomach issues, and it was nearly alarm time when I finally did get back to sleep, still in stomach churning agony.

It’s not the flu. It’s not my meds. It’s not even a newsflash. It’s like this every single time I try to “work” and interact in the dish. I start to melt down and crumble. If you’ve never had a truly bad stress stomach ache, lucky you. This is misery.

And trying to deal with being a single mom with an issue laden child is not making my quest to be what society expects me to be less agonizing. i’ve done some major soul searching, not to mention every known “you are a weak loser, grow up” self bullying speech and it all boils down to the same thing it always has, the same thing that landed me on disability in the first place.

They stopped giving E for effort a long time ago so it feels like it’s all for nothing. I am burning myself out, once again feeling trapped in subpar mental health care, making do with a medication that actually has some pretty freaky side effects I hadn’t noticed til I ran out and missed a couple of doses due to being broke. I had no idea psych meds could mimick the sensation of dandruff and head lice. My scalp actually feels…normal. I once again got caught up in my own desperate desire and need to take whatever anti depressant combo kept me upright, side effects be damned.

Trintellix did pretty well during summer. I wasn’t dancing in the street but I was feeling much stronger and functional. But even with the doseage increases, it’s not been enough to ward off the seasonal affect depression and none of the 28-ish anti depressants I’ve ever been on has done an iota toward helping with anxiety and panic.

To have to admit one more med has failed to withstand seasonal affect, before the worst has even started, annoys me and frustrates me. But then, being up half the night with a nervous stomach and physical symptoms from sheer stress and anxiety mortifies me. If I had a physical ailment that had triggers and I ignored them and put myself in pain, people would call me a moron. Yet because my ailments are mental, I am supposed to run myself into the ground, a psych ward, or death, and for what? To make ignorant society more comfortable because they lack the emotional intelligence to distinguish between someone being lazy and someone being incapacitated by their disorders?

I don’t have any answers today. I think R is coming by tonight to look at the dryer again, and frankly, company is the last thing I want to endure. I’d be fine with a nap while my kid is at church as opposed to pasting on a stilted smile and excusing myself to the bathroom every ten minutes, doubled over in pain. I’d think I had a major illness if this hadn’t happened so many times before, always in response to trying to live in the petri dish. Thousands of dollars of tests multiple times to be told I have a nervous stomach and need to keep my stress level low. Unfortunately, the doctors did not write that R/X to be given to the idget world around me.

I’m going to keep toughing it out, but I haven’t had a solid night’s sleep in so long, I am amazed I haven’t gone insane. I even tripled my melatonin to 10 mg like nurse doc said and it doesn’t keep me down. I don’t know how long anyone is expected to stay afloat on little restful sleep, constant physical symptoms of anxiety, unsupportive people making more and more demands of you…That’d be a stretch even for someone with no mental illness, money problems, or children. Or maybe I am just this weak. IDK.

Fuck that. I am anything but weak. Hear me now, Borg society; I WILL NOT BE ASSIMILATED. Mental illness is as grueling as any physical illness so fuck your collective mentality.

Duty Kills

Posted in depression with tags , , , , on November 6, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

It’s been an uneventful few days and yet…

My will to live is at critical zero. I’m on auto pilot only it’s wired with a bomb and I’m what’s gonna blow up.

Triggers, triggers, what happened….


Fact is, I am overwhelmed from every direction. Feeling like even your own thoughts are ninja attacks is not normal, healthy, nor is it a sign your psych care or med regime is really working. I have become so desperate I’ve learned to confuse “out of bed” with “this med makes me feel better.”


The darkest lie is the one your brian tells to you.

I see no hope at the end of the tunnel. I can’t father my thoughts to regain equilibrium. I am NOT happy and it is not merely situational. Perhaps THIS is the real breakthrough. Realizing I’ve been so societally programmed and beaten down that I think merely being able to get out of bed means the Trintellix/Wellbutrin combo is working. Being functional has nothing to do with feeling good, hopeful, or in a mind set to plan a better future for mself and my child.

Where does this leave me?

I have less than zero idea.

I’ve just finally reached the point where “upright and functioning”are not good enough. I’ve come to accept hopelessness as a sign of progress, as in growing up and accepting life is hard and depressing sometimes. But this is NOT normal.

Wanting to sleep 24-7, even when your nightmares are just as grueling but you like them cos you can wake up from them…This is not meds working. This is grasping at straws.

This is depression.

Unfortunately, I’ve laid claim to hoping the med combo is working and just needs a higher dose but this is at the highest dose…

This is depression.

And as much as my bipolar axis two manic epiosdes are awesome…This part is agony.

If only I had a haunting I could call a ghostbuster.

When you have all encompassing depression and your mental healthcare team has left you in the lurch with their own staff shortage issues so you get stuck outside looking in…

The receptionist is the only one you can call and you gotta pray for an open space…

BUt hey, my disorders are so disabbling me, I can’t even work up the courage to use the phone and make my agony known.

Fucked up how my personality is so scary I run off men left and right yet…I’m so hindered by mood swings and anxiety I can’t even make a fucking phone call. Panic attacks mimick symptoms of a heart arythmia so what sane person would want to do something to bring on a panic attack?

Do not ever tell me these conditions aren’t a disability. They impact every aspect of my life, good or bad, big or small, and I am fighting like a warrior to beat it but…

Sometimes even warriors fall and fail.


Posted in depression with tags , , , , on November 3, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

This week hasn’t been as mentally grueling as last week was, but it’s had its own challenges. The surprise functionality Halloween night sent me down the blargh path, which is a step above splat. Neither are good. Yesterday in the midst of time in the petri dish I was ninja attackaced by unprovoked anxiety…I am flailing and trying to ‘be normal’ and ‘be strong’ but honestly…I’m not nailing it. Adulting is hard enough, but when your entire operating system (brain) has multiple corrupted files…It’s a bitch.

And of course, I am still finding myself in spineless jellyfish situations, like last night when R asked me to come over and keep him compnay while he cooked chili. And I said no at first, but then he played all butt hurt like I had rejected him as opposed to simply wanting to stay in…so I packed my kid over with me and she pretty much dominated the evening with complaints, demands, ailments, and various other attempts at manipulation to suit her own needs. To my credit, I didn’t bow down. In fact, I had planned on a polite 90 minute stay but when she started pushing me with her whining…it became a three hour visit. I’m tired of being walked on, my name is not welcome mat. And frankly, if being a welcome mat is what makes a “good” parent these days, I’ll accept being a mediocre one. I am held hostage to her social life every single day so it’s not unreasonable to expect her to suck it up for a couple of hours once every few months when I actually do leave the house. Besides…there are lots of toys there for the grandbabies, so it’s not like she was left without entertainment.

I managed the final day at the shop with a minimal of meltdown, though my brain really wasn’t in it. I arranged a sleepover for Spook with mom tonight and when I dropped her off there…I made an off hand comment about ‘I don’t think I am gonna last more than a month or two more helping out R” and my mom looked at me as if I had grown two heads.

“Well, why not? He doesn’t ask much of you, does he? What’s the problem?”

I do so love having my mental issues and anxiety perpetually belittled by EVERY FUCKING PERSON IN MY LIFE. Not.

I haven’t showered in almost 3 days, my sink is full of dishes. I just now man aged the energy to vacuum after two weeks.Cat boxes need scooped. I am three loads behind on laundry, which is a big issue now that the dryer is dead. My sofa is 6 feet piled deep with clean clothes I can’t find energy to fold and put away…I am struggling and it’s not affect or drama or weakness. It is fact. To constantly have every single person in my life berate and belittle me for what they’re not intelligent enough to understand makes it all worse.

I am a big fan of the “fuck ’em” dismissal thing, but when you’re trying to lean on a loved one or friend for support when you feel tapped out and they make youn feel so tiny and weak…It fucking sucks. And it’s all I’ve ever known yet I still keep thinking one day at least one of them might come around to see just how hindered my mental issues make me. If that’s not optimism, I don’t know what is.

For tonight…I have peace and I can rest and reboot…all the while my scumbag brain reminds me that my mom has likely already told everyone and their dog how ridiculous I am to say I can’t handle much more juggling in my life.

What makes that even more vile is the fact nurse doctor kind of treats me the same way. Like my problems are petty and i am faking it and “you’ve got this”.

That’s not having faith in me being a strong person. It’s just cruelty. I am going under here and by the time anyone truly realizes it…I’m gonna be down the rabbit hole and probably en route to a psych ward stay. All because the masses are too ignorant to place the proper severity on mental illness.

I’m not a victim, I am not asking for sympathy or hand holding. I am, however, a patient, with legitimate illnesses, who would like someone to reassure me that it’s okay if I can’t juggle six chainsaws, two machetes, a kid, cats, auto care, housework, bill paying, and a partridge in a pear tree without it melting me down.

I think it really is time to make the change back to Dr. B even if it means nurse doc puts a black mark on my Permanent Mental Health Record. If I don’t have the support of family and friends, I should at least have a mental health professional who makes me feel hopeful after an appointment. Nurse doc just makes me feel…like nothing. Like I am less than someone in the fast food drive thru. Not her intent,I am sure, but it’s her manner and that’s how it makes me feel. I’ve given it several months, several mood cycles and med regimes…She’s not helpful to me in a meaningful way.

And I think it’s really cruel that I’ve been placed in this position because they were understaffed and now I have to take steps to switch back to what I never truly agreed to leave.

Any thoughts on how to do this and conquer my spineless jellyfish syndrome? REALLY. If any of you who read this have suggestions on how to handle this situation in a non hostile manner that gets me back into a good therapeutic situation….TALK TO ME, PEOPLE. Please.

blargh 2.0

Posted in depression with tags , , , , on November 1, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

Yes, that is really the best title I could think of. I had a good day yesterday and now I am back to blargh. Cold, gray day. I didn’t get to sleep quick last night (not my kid’s fault for a change) and I didn’t stay asleep. Like that every month waiting for the check to come in so I can go get bills paid. It’s depressing to see how fast the money goes, but until my stuff is paid…I walk on eggshells. Always afraid of the next banking snafu or social security/electronic deposit glitch. Getting stuff paid is what makes me feel safe and secure. So that’s what I did this morning. Then my dumb ass spent a half hour trying to figure out how to connect a dvd player to a TV to test at the shop. Yay. Too many fucking inputs and outputs, I miss old school TV’s and VCR’s. (What do you expect, I drive 1993 car and still consider it too new.)

I got a jolt yesterday. INSPIRATION. I had no ideas for Halloween costumes, no money, and I was already stressing out over bills and my kid’s behavior and the demands placed on me…I was totally in “fuck it” space. Then I thought…NO. Depression ruined Halloween for me last year, I did little but play chauffeur for my kid to loot for candy. This year…The cloud lifted briefly, creativity burst through, and I knew what my costume was gonna be, not a cent to be spent.

Spook was a dark angel.

As I already had the devil baby doll (I named him Demonicus)…I became Rosemary and baby, conmplete with baby sling and horns that lit up red.

Good chance this will be our family portrait anti holiday card.

Amazingly, we had fun together. Driving after dark was unnerving, but it wasn’t too cold and there was no drama. My devil doll did creep out a few people, made a few people laugh, and oddly…that tween girl who said she was gonna kick my big fat butt…yelled out the car window that my costume was awesome. Hmm. Must be my creative fat butt.

I am gonna leave it at that. One good night, finished off with watching the original Halloween movie.

On a final note…I got this stuffed Freddy this summer for a quarter at a yard sale and hooked him up with some wheels stolen from Spook’s toys.

Maybe if I end up in the wacko basket, they will let me take Freddy with me. He’s all soft and squishy. Demonicus is hard plastic and those horns really could be used as,albeit, an odd weapon.

I had a good day after many many bad ones. Back to blargh.But the one good day counts. It counts for a lot.


Posted in depression with tags , , , , on October 26, 2017 by morgueticiaatoms

It’s just one of those givens in life that we take for granted. Until something necessary breaks and then you realize…HEATING IS NOT OPTIONAL. My mood and will to live and comfort level skyrocketed last night when R got our heat working. It had two seperate issues but he took 45 minutes, took measurements, fixed some loose connections, banged the blower motor into submission, and voila…my daughter and I woke up to warmth this morning instead of an ice palace.

Gratitude is immense.

Hell, I may just bite the bullet and start nodding mindlessly during his political tirades. I’ve never given a damn before and I really don’t give a damn now, it’s just that natural rebel instinct that kicks in when someone tries to tell me their opinion is the ONLY legit one. I don’t think they could put Scooby Doo into office without me finding something to disagree on, like, I am totally not eating Scooby snacks to honor you, dude…It’s all become so clearly ridiculous to me. Leave me out of politics. My personal beliefs have nothing to do with their agendas, they’re just the ones fucking with my rights to those personal beliefs and the right to practice them. Aside from that…I’m out. Let Prez Trump do his thing and hope for ‘the best. I’m done getting ulcer-like stomach aches about a topic that truly bores me to death. I think I can mindlessly nod and pretend to agree or be interested during R’s tirades. God knows I do it often enough for my child’s tirades on everything from My Little Pony to Pokemon to ‘you’re the worst mom ever because you won’t let me change my outfit for the sixth time today!” At some point…you just gotta let the children have their tantrums and disengage as much as you can.

Children…Yeah, even with the seasonal depression coming on due to the lack of sunlight and the cold temps…I can’t fucking wait. REALLY. Her friends being at my house day in and day out, and even when I send them away they still play out in our yard which gets her all wound up…Bring on the 5 p.m. darkness and cold so these brats will go indoors. I let S stay at our house to catch the church van last night and come 8:30 when they got back…she couldn’t find her mom. House was dark and locked, I got no message or call-who the fuck does that???? Wasn’t til after 9 when the mom finally drove up looking for her kid. WTF? And this was all while R was trying to fix the furnace so I am sure the stampeding shrieking kids helped him focus. I was gonna tell Spook no more of this girl catching the bus at our house but apparently, it’s not an issue cos that whole family is moving next weekend. And much as I don’t like to see my kid’s heart broken…Buh-bye. The only thing the trailer hood retains and replaces more than bugs and cop cars driving through are people moving in with oodles of kids she can play with next spring.

I’m kind of a monster, I guess. Oh, well. It’s life.

Actually, I only have monstrous tendencies when pushed to my limits. And I’d say her dentist appointment, me seeing the nurse doc, going without heat several cold days, losing all our kittens, the dryer breaking down…Yeah, the monster is peaking out because damn…too damn much going wrong too or being demanded of me when I am running on E. I’m doing my best. Even if those around me seem to want me to feel otherwise. Fuck ’em.

I took doc nurse’s advice about upping my melatonin at night so maybe I can stay asleep. Well..I woke a couple of times but went back to sleep…but come alarm time, I was so groggy I could barely sit up and help my kid zip her coat. So until they create a sleep helper that doesn’t leave me that impaired come morning…I’m just gonna have to live with interrupted sleep and never being fully rested.

The more I think back to my visit with nurse doc yesterday, the more convinced I am that for whatever reasons…I really want to go back to Dr. B. I can’t explain it, I just….feel like she is skeptical of everything I say. She finally stoppd the perpetual clacking on the computer while I talk but there’s still…something unsettling there. I can’t get true help from someone I feel is…well, not team Morgue. Dr. B always made it clear he was pulling for me and he recognized my intelligence and potential and he empathized openly with what I am going through…Maybe it’s her fresh out of the box master’s degree but I’m not getting what I need from my appointments with her. And as society as trained me because, hey, I am mental, I keep bullying myself to suck it up, they’re just glorified pill pushers anyway, does it matter who writes the script? To me…I guess it kind of does matter yet here I am, months later with the same feelings and still invalidating myself because it’s what I’ve been programmed to do.

I’ll leave the deep thought for another time. For today…we have heat at home, food in the fridge, we are physically healthy, our cats are good…There are things to be grateful for.

I think depression may be the greatest magician of all time the way it presents me with its grand illusions of impending doom. Of course, when that’s basically 7 months of your life every single year…the illusion is the reality even if the doom isn’t real. My feelings are real. And if depression were a person, I’d totally tell them to fuck off and just avoid them or make a voodoo doll of them.

Unfortunately, I can’t walk away from my own brain and its trickery. Ain’t that the big problem. No escaping me.