(Thanks Mars.)
Depression is a fucking cunt. I hate her. I wish she would leave me alone.
And yet I keep her around for when I don’t quite know what I’m doing with my life.
I fall back into old patterns when I feel uncertain about change. Even if it’s only 98% certain. If there’s a tiny inkling of insecurity in the choices I make, it’s hard to make myself feel at ease. I’m very good at playing the What-If game and worrying myself into a mental frenzy.
I decided long ago that I hated being this way. But obviously I can’t seem to let it go, and you can’t hate something without loving it too. What is it that I love about depression? Is it that I seek attention and get a pat on the head or a really big hug? Is there something attractive about being crazy? If there is, it’s an empty attraction that only spirals deeper, feeding the depression like a crack dealer ruins a perfectly good mind.
I’ve learned that crazy does not end well. It may provide some fun times but it certainly provides just as many struggles. As much as I say I want stability and I want to be happy and live without depression or anxiety or even the manic crazy highs, I should be able to just let go of it.
And yet here I am, old thought patterns coming back…I took pride in the fact that I never considered suicide an answer for a really long time. And then tonight, I actually thought to myself that I could just kill myself and not have to face work tomorrow.
THIS IS NOT OK. I decided a long, long time ago that I like LOVE life. There’s no fucking way I’m ending it just because I can’t see over the horizon and I’m standing in a swamp that feels impossible to get out of. I know it’s not impossible and I know that I’ll be ok. I am a very strong individual and I want to prove that I can overcome all the bullshit that life throws at me without getting so dragged down.
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