Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Note To Self
By the way, Bama was rough. Not because the people I visited/saw/hung out with weren't awesome, but because I NEED to do something about this depression crap. I keep and keep and keep ignoring it and looking the other way and hoping it'll disappear, like maybe this time, after ten years of episode-breath-episode-breath-breath-episode-breath-episode-episode... it'll be different. What was the definition of insanity again? I keep telling myself that since I can function it's not that bad, or that, since I was "alright" today, maybe I'll be better tomorrow, despite the fact that last night (and, oh yeah, this afternoon) I could hardly bear the thought of having to live for decades more before I can have peace. Logically I know and I can sort of vaguely remember that life isn't all bad, that maybe it's even mostly good and that I've loved people and enjoyed things and had fun and been genuinely glad and thankful for moments, for life, for being alive and having the opportunity to live and experience and create and love. Lately though, most of the time, I'm reactionary and angry and empty, and I look forward to nothing, and I want nothing except to be left alone, though being left alone makes me miserable. There are moments, stretches of minutes even! When I'm fine, when I forget, when I'm talking or listening or watching or even laughing, and enjoying myself--but when I'm no longer distracted, the fog descends again. Sometimes I try to (and tonight I tried to), and sometimes I can shoulder it and lift it away, like Atlas, but the moment my concentration slips it descends again. And then, inexplicably, there will be days of light, or at least forgetfulness. Or light. I just wish they would stay. I need some counseling and some medication. I need some hope.