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.
It occurs to me that, to combat my seasonal bullshit brain, I may have to stop sleeping naked under 400 blankets. I live in a drafty old house and despise getting out of bed even more than usual when it gets cold outside, because I hate feeling cold air on my ass, so I just…don’t get out of bed. Too cold, fuck you, don’t wanna.
Oh, darn. Looks like I’ll have to go buy MORE adorable pajamas. Like…FOR MY HEALTH, really. FOR MORALE.
(Probably also window treatments and a space heater, but it’s more fun to focus on cute pajamas.)
Paxil, Adderall, pajamas, an irresponsible quantity of coffee, and a breakfast brownie.
Am I doing it right?