You know what? No.

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.

Depression is expensive

Describing my past week or so to the therapist…

Therapist: “So…do me a favor and keep an eye on that, because that could be depression creeping back in.”

Me: “Um, nope. No, it’s not, because I JUST paid $85 to see the nice lady with the meds, and I’ll be goddamned if I’m paying it again before my next appointment.”

Time to see if I can “cheap” my way out of a mood disorder!

(I am not doing things I’m supposed to be doing, so I will endeavor to do those things. If it doesn’t help I will certainly go see the nice lady.)

“Dying alone is fine.”

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.”

Un-Wellbutrin

My psychiatrist doubled my Wellbutrin dose because she loves me and wants me to be happy.

Or, you know, perhaps not so much HAPPY as just NOT an unshowered, self-hating pile of laze.

Six of one, amirite?

This needs more science.

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?

It merits investigation, is all I’m saying.

Time for a new OS

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.

This is your brain on drugs.

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.