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.

There is no human. There is only BED!

It occurs to me that if there ever IS a man in this bed, I am such a miserable shit first thing in the morning that I couldn’t let him spend the night. Or he’d have to sleep in another room and agree to leave me alone until the meds, coffee, and a hairbrush make me eligible for human contact.

“Sorry, man. ‘Cute and easygoing’ doesn’t show up ‘til, like, 11. Right now we’re at ‘bridge troll.’”

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.

How ‘bout NOga?

I didn’t THINK I was struggling with mental health, until I saw this and thought, “Oh, OK, sure. Meanwhile, YOU please consider some gentle kissing of my ass.”

It’s possible I just hate joy.

I appreciate having friends who know me well enough to be like, “Hey, honnney? You OK? ‘Cause…you got a little bitch on your face. You need some Midol? Maybe a cookie? You’re not normally THIS cranky.”

This week has been a goddamn eternity.

Does throwing shade count as cardio?

Current mood: “Oh, this cheery bitch can kiss the fattest part of my ass.”

So yeah, my exercise program is going well.

Nope.

Ahem…

*taps mic*

Fuuuuuck youuuuu.

Yep. A WHOLE bag.

OK, listen, I KNOW there are colder places than Philly, but it’s fucking colder than it goddamn should be and we still have to go outside and that is horseshit and I am crabby and winter can eat a bag of dicks.

*deep breath*

Carry on.

My bed is my docking station.

“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…