My therapist told me to pay attention to my feeeelings and ask myself “Why?” when I don’t feel like doing something, and “I don’t goddamn feel like it and you’re not my mom” is not an acceptable answer.
And this is where mood stuff gets dumb. Because what’s she’s saying is that depression can look a lot like “being a lazyfuck garbage monster,” and we have to determine which one I’m doing, and, like… Lady, it’s COLD out, and dark at 4 pm. No one wants to do anything. I am not depressed. Have you looked around? Everything just blows. Motivated people are the problem — medicate THOSE weirdos. Leave me to my blankets.
Therapist: “So, how’s dating? Have you written anyone back on the apps?”
Me: “Of course not, don’t be absurd.”
Therapist: “You know, if you don’t WANT to be dating…”
Me: “It’s not that I don’t WANT to. It’s just… Like we’ve talked about, I want someone who’ll fit into my life, which is pretty decent with just me — well, minus the depressive bits. And I’d SUPER like to have some sex. But about once a month I’ll hear something terrible about a man and I’ll think, ‘Ya know…I don’t really need one of those. Dying alone is fine.’ So I guess I’m just not in a hurry.”
One of the things I hate most about depression is… OK, fine, I COULD be. I’ll allow it. But has anyone considered that everything actually IS boring and shitty, and that staying in bed IS, in fact, the solution?
I’ve posted about this before, but what’s SUPER fun about depression is all the ways it looks that I didn’t know about before I saw doctors for it. And apparently in ME, it looks a lot like being an exhausted, lazy asshole. And since I frequently AM an exhausted lazy, asshole, it’s hard to differentiate.
So basically any time I’m tired I get anxious that I’m depressed, and then I can’t sleep, which is just goddamn delightful.
And I’m still not convinced I even HAVE depression. I feel like there’s a diet or a vitamin I haven’t tried yet that would just fix me right up, and my doctors are just throwing pills at me because that’s what doctors do for middle-aged, middle-class white women. Maybe all I need is, like, less gluten and more St. John’s Wort or whatever the shit.
Human brains and bodies are stupid and obsolete. I demand an upgrade.
I feel bad for people who won’t even TRY mental health drugs because they “don’t want to rely on them.”
Well, no, no one WANTS to, but you rely on Lipitor for your cholesterol, right? Maybe a blood pressure med?
Sometimes your body doesn’t give you the things you need, or gives you too much, because your body is an asshole. If I take a Wellbutrin every day and feel LESS like there’s no point in getting out of bed when it’s raining? I’ll call that a win.
This kinda hit home because it’s a blood relative who gets anxiety attacks if they’re around too many people, which…hi… 🙋🏻♀️
Whatever, man — maybe I DO rely on my drugs, but I also no longer break down in Target stores, so…again, win.
“I know thinking everything is pointless is a symptom of depression, but…five days a week, I leave a perfectly valid internet connection at my house to sit in rush hour traffic for an hour and drive to a *different* internet connection in a cubicle. I email files back and forth for 8 hours and then drive home, also in traffic, to return to my original internet connection. I’m pretty sure if you looked up the word ‘pointless,’ that would at LEAST be a secondary definition.”
And I’m notdepressed currently, but Christ, that isdepressing.
I’ve been in a fight with my brain and frankly it’s winning, including skipping the gym all week and a triumphant return to feelings-eating that’s left me no longer able to see the changes in my body exercise had achieved.
But fuck you, Brain — I’m smarter than you. Nice people are delivering me healthy food so I’m prepared for Philly’s forthcoming bullshit snowstorm. So if you insist on staying indoors, that’s fine. But you are gonna drink weird fruit smoothies and do SOME form of exercise and have a goddamn productive day, and you are going to LIKE IT. And tomorrow you’re talking to the therapist.