A depression is like a raging bitch. It’s never about the arguments, it’s never about fairness, it is never a convenient time. It just is. Running through your veins making you unreasonably sad completely unprovoked. Sometimes unreasonably angry.
There probably is a reason, but you’ll likely never find out what it is. It feels like you’re being swallowed whole, you can’t breathe and you can’t function like a normal person. There is just this overwhelming feeling of whatever emotion grabbed you by the throat. I wish I knew how to fight this feeling, but it is not something you can just fight in the moment. I’m told you fight it one hour at a time with a professional by your side.
You always have the instinct to protect yourself. The last thing that feels natural is to take on the beast. You run! You hide! You absolutely do not bring it out into the light! That can’t be a healthy thing to do, yet this is what I’m told and pushed to do when I visit my psychologist.
So tomorrow we fight. Today I’m this puddle of human that can’t even get up to clean the house. I’m this miserable, sad and hurting person that feels like there is no hope. There is no winning.
Someone told me today that I seem to be doing so much better, that I’ve got the spark back in my eyes. I can’t help but feeling like I just got told I got even better at faking it.
So for now, fuck off, I hate everything and there’s no spark. There might be a smouldering coal somewhere at the bottom. If there is, I’ll find it and put a ball of newspaper on it and blow my lungs out… tomorrow.