The criteria for depression annoy me.
“Loss of interest in things you used to enjoy?”
OK, fine, but…sometimes shit just gets boring.
How is it MY fault that everything is garbage except John Mulaney specials and Serenity on repeat?
I’ve had numerous discussions with multiple mental health professionals about this, but I still can’t tell if I’m depressed or just lazy. They look the same on me, which is why I have a hard time even saying I have depression, because, like…if you have the option, why are you not still in bed right now? Everyone I know would choose this. Bed is amazing. And depression is a douchebag loiterer.
A friend shared this screenshot of an online dating profile she encountered, and aside from the fact that this man is obviously insensitive garbage, um…no psychiatric illness RHYMES with depression, you fucking nimrod. People don’t have “cepression.”
I mean, I guess depression rhymes with itself? But that’d be a pretty shitty poem. You should take a creative writing class or something, I bet you could learn some ways to work around that mental block. Or even just Google “words ending in ession” — Oppression. Concession. Transgression. Impression.
You’re welcome. 
I hate posting things from, like, Billy Jo Bob’s Info site, but I found out May is Mental Health Awareness Month, so, to that end: Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About Depression.
“Some people with depression may be plagued by low self-esteem and feelings of worthlessness, yet function well on a day-to-day basis. Others may not be as affected by negative thinking, but buckle under heavy fatigue and pervasive apathy. Sadness could be considered a defining symptom of depression, but even that’s not always present: A person with depression might be overly irritable or emotionally numb instead of profoundly unhappy … Women with depression tend to have more anxiety than men, report more fatigue and hypersomnia (excessive sleeping), and tend toward lethargy.”
Oh, OK, cool, so it looks like BEING AN ASSHOLE.
THANKS, Science, way to be specific. 🙄
An acquaintance posted on Facebook that a bad stretch of depression had caused her to gain back weight she’d lost, and some cheery fitness fucker commented “Awe, you can do it again with exercising and eatting healthier again! It’s mind over matter. Everything in moderation. Tell yourself you can do it! 💪😁👍”
OK, obviously I don’t know your life, but also? Blow me a little.
Who doesn’t know about diet and exercise IN THEORY? Everyone KNOWS about it, bitch — you ain’t droppin’ science. Don’t talk to her like she’s an idiot like she doesn’t already feel bad enough. Ass.
And it’s not “mind over matter” if your mind is what’s telling you cake will fix things, and guess what, cake DOES fix things.
Finally, UGH, the “Awe” instead of “Aw” — I think we can all agree those people can’t be trusted.
As always, Shonda Rhimes said it best…
“Damn, I feel so much more human today than I did yesterday. What the hell happened?”
“Well, you stayed in bed for 2 days straight and then took your ADD meds with coffee.”
I’m not recommending this as a life choice, but…I mean, I DO feel better…
I’ll be moving to a new apartment in a couple months, and my therapist asked if I’d want her to refer me to someone closer to the new place.
1. Now I think my therapist wants to get rid of me.
2. I said, “I don’t know, unless you think I don’t even NEED to be in therapy…?” and she raised her eyebrow damn near off her head, and I laughed, and she laughed, and so… yeah. Guess I’m gonna keep going.
Yesterday my friends told me they ran into Guy I Dated For a Minute, and now for some reason it’s all I can think about.
I THINK it’s partly because my doctors are screwing with the drugs I take, so I hadn’t been in the greatest mental place, anyway, but it’s sort of spiraled into a fun rehash of the “not enoughs” — pretty, smart, cool, good in bed… All the things you think you can suck at, I’ve been telling myself I suck at. Like… this dude doesn’t even want to be FRIENDS with me. What the fuck is that? Am I THAT boring? I even offered him friends with benefits and…still no? So I’m not good enough in bed to fuck a third time?
And by the way? The sex was…serviceable. It was good, but not great. It got the job done. And the dude’s nice and all, but I think I mostly saw friendship there. I have no idea why this is bothering me so much NOW. We’ve been not dating longer than we WERE dating, and it HADN’T been bothering me before. I think I’m finally getting that we’re not going to even be friends, and so I just feel gross and used and stupid. Again. (I teared up while writing that, so it’s possible I nailed it.)
The “stupid” is big because I’m attracted to people smarter than I am, in relationships and friendships, and it goddamn blows to not even be friends-worthy.
*shaking head*
UGHHHHHH. Bitch, stop being a bitch, bitch!
(Here’s hoping putting this in writing is therapeutic, because my actual therapist is on vacation this week.)
Today I finally got my therapist to admit that everything is awful and that depression is a perfectly logical reaction.
Guys! I won!
Therapist: “So, this thing where you’re calling yourself stupid, and clingy, and crazy — where’s that coming from?”
Me: “I don’t know, I feel like I was pressuring him. He has anxiety and depression, too, and I know how that feels, to have someone demanding your time, another THING you have to keep up with. Honestly, I’m kinda psyched to have Sundays to myself again, so I get where he’s coming from.”
Therapist: “OK, I get that. But from everything you’ve told me — and obviously I’m your Person, so I’m biased — this sounds like it’s him, not you. Basically the only thing you asked him for was more sex. Maybe you could’ve been more direct about saying it, but that doesn’t make it clingy, or crazy, or stupid. Putting aside the sexual component, if you had a friend and communication with them dropped off like it did here, would you be concerned and check in with them?”
Me: “Yes.”
Therapist: “That’s not crazy. It’s caring about a human being.”
I LOVE paying people to tell me I’m right.
She told me it was fine to send him an email I’ve written offering a friendship, but the longer I don’t hear from him after the last message I sent, the less interest I have in that idea. I’m not that bad at taking a hint.
Smug Singleton 