Contrary to popular belief, I am trying very hard to be optimistic. In general, I’ve been doing okay. My sleep schedule is semi-on-track, which is good. I’m excited to start school next week (okay, “excited” is a strong word; I’m ready to start school next week and get one semester closer to a damn degree).
Overall, I feel pretty okay. Not great, but I can get out of bed and shower and make myself a milkshake. Not too shabby. I’ve definitely had worse days.
Here’s the thing, though:
Depression is a desperate monster that wants to survive and thrive by any means necessary. And, that sombitch will grasp at any straws to do it.
Tiny let-downs feel like towering disappointments.
Oh, we couldn’t go to Disneyland last week. Oh, this person didn’t call when they said they would. Oh, that project isn’t coming out the way I imagined it.
These are small, insignificant things. I’ve been to Disneyland six times in the last four months. There’s a perfectly valid reason why that person didn’t call. At least that project is getting done so I can sell it or give it to someone.
Rationally, I know these things. But, in the moment, the depression amplifies them and they seem much, much bigger.
I’m never going to get to do anything fun again until the semester’s over (and then I’m taking classes in the summer, so I still won’t get to do anything fun). This person forgot about me or doesn’t care about me or actively doesn’t like me and I’m just annoying them by wanting to talk. I’ve wasted so much time and money working on something that I’m not even going to like because I’m not creative or talented and I should Just Stop.
Thankfully, these moments pass. We can go to Disneyland this week. That person will call me tomorrow. Even if I don’t particularly like the way that project ends up, someone else will and I will have learned from the mistakes I made, so I can do better next time.
Depression can suck it, because I’m awesome and I’m going to be okay. And so are you. ❤
In non-mental health news, I made a little bit of headway with cleaning. My desk looks amazeballs (I am bringing back outdated slang because that is how good my desk looks, witches; it looks so good, I’ve been transported back in time). The entire rest of my room looks like a garbage pile, but my desk is on point.
I’m at the point where I’m about to pitch anything that isn’t clothes, money/credit cards, or technology into the trash.
Impulse-Out-Of-Control: Oh, but that would look so good in my future house!
Logic: Yea, well, I’m not going to be able to afford a future house if I keep wasting money on shit I don’t need.
In my unending quest to learn how to friend, I managed to get hold of Matt. I texted him a couple days ago, because I have some questions about attending church (which I will post about in more detail on Wednesday; no, I am not converting; yes, I am still a witch). It took him a while to get back to me, because it always takes him a while to get back to me, but he said he’d be happy to answer any questions I have. He said he’ll give me a call when he’s off work today,
but I have low self-esteem and regularly expect people to forget about me because I’m not important so hopefully he does and I didn’t just lie to you about having more details on Wednesday.
I’m trying to make healthier choices. On Saturday, all I ate was Oreos and leftover bacon, so that should tell you about how well that’s going. There was a while there during the summer where I actually did really, really well. Then Fourth of July hit and fuck it! Bar-be-cue! Snack time! Halloween’s coming up! It’s the holidays! HOLY MAGIKARP I GAINED FIFTEEN POUNDS! I mean, weight gain is irrelevant. Weight isn’t an indicator of health. But, I live upstairs and I’d like to get to my apartment without getting winded. That’s the goal: Walking up stairs. So, back to veggies and eggs for breakfast.
Life is going on. I’m going with it.
I love you all.
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