Monday, November 5, 2018
Appreciation
I never show my appreciation. It's hard for me to show any kind of emotion at all, really, and not like I'm actively suppressing it or anything I just... Don't feel it, I guess? But in my head I do really appreciate all the things my friends do, things like inviting me to places, offering help, it makes me feel like I have a choice in life, that maybe I don't have to do it by myself. I'm so grateful that people actually want me around, even a little bit. I'm so grateful that people are willing to spend their time talking to me, and giving me advice. I'm so grateful because I hardly ever offer anything, because I know depression can cancel any sort of plans I make. I'm grateful because I don't ever expect people to want to hang out with me, so I would never actively engage people in case they feel like they are forced to spend time with me. I'm very grateful, and I'm sorry I can't show it.
Little Things
The toughest part (I think) about having depression is all the little things that normal people do. Things like brushing your teeth, drinking water, taking a shower, regular self care things. It's very easy to think: who cares if I don't brush my hair? Cavemen didn't brush their hair, and they didn't die from that. All these little things lead to a very unhealthy lifestyle that I'm fully aware about.
For me, every little task leads to overthinking. What I do to get myself productive (or as productive as I can be anyway) is to break things down into manageable chunks. For example instead of waking up and thinking, ok, let's go to school. I think: ok, get dressed. Then do your hair. Then do your makeup. Then pack your bag. Then wear your shoes. Then get out the door, etc. For the most part it is helpful but for tasks that are already small, like taking a shower, I break it down to steps like: get the towel, get the shower supplies, check if anyone is in the bathroom, wait for people to leave the bathroom, get in the bathroom and hope nobody knocks on the door, shower and hope there are no bugs or lizards to accidentally crawl on me, etc. This makes a small task super daunting. What if when I go to the bathroom a housemate sees me and starts talking to me? What if when I'm showering somebody really needs to poop and they're knocking on the door non stop? What if someone's washing their clothes and the water is trickling and way too hot? What if? And all these things lead to me sitting there and being weighed down thinking: Is it even worth the effort? Do I care that I showered? Isn't this just for other people's benefit? What's the point?
What's the point. That's the foundation of depression isn't it? Why do we do anything? Everyone dies in the end, whether you're a super successful philanthropic millionaire or a leech, everyone dies and nothing matters. What's the point of going to school? Getting a job? Being successful? Meeting people? Falling in love? In the grand scheme of things what would it affect?
There's no point in trying to convince me of the wonders of life either, I know logically that all these things leads to a state of happiness. It just doesn't motivate me. I don't care that doing these things will make me a happier person, because the process of doing them is making me want to not exist. To me, doing nothing causes the least amount of stress and sadness, and if that's the point of living, why would I actively do things that make me feel worse?
All in all, it's a disease. No amount of talking about it will cure me. I need professional help, I'm aware, but again... help means money and money means work, work means people and work means effort. Effort means wanting to be dead. I interned for 2 months, I wanted to die. So that's that. It's awful, but it is real. I downplay it because I think I'm a wuss for feeling this way. It's getting worse and worse, and I know it. Last month I entertained the thought of suicide and I could see why people do it. I never thought that before, I used to think there was no reason for suicide. I only hope to delay the decline long enough for me to get real help.
There's no need to worry about me, sadly it is an internal struggle. You could shower me with all the encouragement in the world and it will just sit on top of my brain, never sinking in. I just hope people will understand, that I'm not trying to do this, it is actually really, really hard just keeping myself alive, and everything else is a blizzard on top of an earthquake.
For me, every little task leads to overthinking. What I do to get myself productive (or as productive as I can be anyway) is to break things down into manageable chunks. For example instead of waking up and thinking, ok, let's go to school. I think: ok, get dressed. Then do your hair. Then do your makeup. Then pack your bag. Then wear your shoes. Then get out the door, etc. For the most part it is helpful but for tasks that are already small, like taking a shower, I break it down to steps like: get the towel, get the shower supplies, check if anyone is in the bathroom, wait for people to leave the bathroom, get in the bathroom and hope nobody knocks on the door, shower and hope there are no bugs or lizards to accidentally crawl on me, etc. This makes a small task super daunting. What if when I go to the bathroom a housemate sees me and starts talking to me? What if when I'm showering somebody really needs to poop and they're knocking on the door non stop? What if someone's washing their clothes and the water is trickling and way too hot? What if? And all these things lead to me sitting there and being weighed down thinking: Is it even worth the effort? Do I care that I showered? Isn't this just for other people's benefit? What's the point?
What's the point. That's the foundation of depression isn't it? Why do we do anything? Everyone dies in the end, whether you're a super successful philanthropic millionaire or a leech, everyone dies and nothing matters. What's the point of going to school? Getting a job? Being successful? Meeting people? Falling in love? In the grand scheme of things what would it affect?
There's no point in trying to convince me of the wonders of life either, I know logically that all these things leads to a state of happiness. It just doesn't motivate me. I don't care that doing these things will make me a happier person, because the process of doing them is making me want to not exist. To me, doing nothing causes the least amount of stress and sadness, and if that's the point of living, why would I actively do things that make me feel worse?
All in all, it's a disease. No amount of talking about it will cure me. I need professional help, I'm aware, but again... help means money and money means work, work means people and work means effort. Effort means wanting to be dead. I interned for 2 months, I wanted to die. So that's that. It's awful, but it is real. I downplay it because I think I'm a wuss for feeling this way. It's getting worse and worse, and I know it. Last month I entertained the thought of suicide and I could see why people do it. I never thought that before, I used to think there was no reason for suicide. I only hope to delay the decline long enough for me to get real help.
There's no need to worry about me, sadly it is an internal struggle. You could shower me with all the encouragement in the world and it will just sit on top of my brain, never sinking in. I just hope people will understand, that I'm not trying to do this, it is actually really, really hard just keeping myself alive, and everything else is a blizzard on top of an earthquake.
Depression Jokes
I often joke about depression, repost depression jokes, dark humour posts, etc. I know some people find it jarring, or maybe think that I'm making fun of it, but I just want to say: Depression can be a debilitating disease. My life is half of what it could have been, purely because of depression.
A lot of people think that because I'm able to joke about it that it's something I can just brush off or ignore, but really, I struggle to get out of bed every day, not because I'm lazy, but because I wish I didn't have to survive and be alive. I often make jokes about wishing a car will run me over on my way to school, because it would solve so many of my problems. That said, I'm not suicidal (yet, I'm not a psychic), I just want to be visibly crippled, temporary or otherwise. My depression is crippling, but it's not visible. So with a visibly obvious disability, I'd be able to lay down and do nothing with a socially acceptable reason.
I think a lot about that, and why I can't just do that without actually crippling myself, and it's because I'm really prideful. Like REALLY prideful, you don't understand, I will never ask for help ever (in my normal state of mind). So to me, if I were to be treated as a disabled person, my pride would take a hard beating. I'm a physically capable person with a privileged upbringing and a support system, I CAN'T be a burden to society. This is (I think) how I survived this long, just forcing myself to go through the motions, dragging myself to complete the absolute bare minimum because I honestly think that's the most I can do. It is so incredibly difficult. There have been many days where I've just skipped meals because: why bother? And maybe if I skip enough meals I'll get ill enough to be hospitalised, wouldn't that be great?
I'm very logical, I am, and I know depression is messing my brain up, these thoughts don't make sense, and so I eat, at least once a day, and I drink, at least once a day. But it's really hard. So many days where I've dragged myself to get changed, get my makeup on, then just sat there looking in the mirror and thinking: I can't. Not today. Not ever. And it takes so much to pull myself up and walk to class. This makes me late, almost every day, and that adds even more to my guilt. I have no reason to be late, I'm actively worsening everyone's experience by being late. I'm being a burden.
Everybody tells me it's ok, I'm not a burden, I'm not untalented, I'm not the worst, and logically I know that. I know people like having me around most of the time, but just like I know pee is sterile doesn't mean I'm going to treat it like it's water. Bad analogy, but whatever. The point is there's a difference between what I know and what I feel.
I'm going on a tangent here, so I'll stop myself. Thanks for reading.
A lot of people think that because I'm able to joke about it that it's something I can just brush off or ignore, but really, I struggle to get out of bed every day, not because I'm lazy, but because I wish I didn't have to survive and be alive. I often make jokes about wishing a car will run me over on my way to school, because it would solve so many of my problems. That said, I'm not suicidal (yet, I'm not a psychic), I just want to be visibly crippled, temporary or otherwise. My depression is crippling, but it's not visible. So with a visibly obvious disability, I'd be able to lay down and do nothing with a socially acceptable reason.
I think a lot about that, and why I can't just do that without actually crippling myself, and it's because I'm really prideful. Like REALLY prideful, you don't understand, I will never ask for help ever (in my normal state of mind). So to me, if I were to be treated as a disabled person, my pride would take a hard beating. I'm a physically capable person with a privileged upbringing and a support system, I CAN'T be a burden to society. This is (I think) how I survived this long, just forcing myself to go through the motions, dragging myself to complete the absolute bare minimum because I honestly think that's the most I can do. It is so incredibly difficult. There have been many days where I've just skipped meals because: why bother? And maybe if I skip enough meals I'll get ill enough to be hospitalised, wouldn't that be great?
I'm very logical, I am, and I know depression is messing my brain up, these thoughts don't make sense, and so I eat, at least once a day, and I drink, at least once a day. But it's really hard. So many days where I've dragged myself to get changed, get my makeup on, then just sat there looking in the mirror and thinking: I can't. Not today. Not ever. And it takes so much to pull myself up and walk to class. This makes me late, almost every day, and that adds even more to my guilt. I have no reason to be late, I'm actively worsening everyone's experience by being late. I'm being a burden.
Everybody tells me it's ok, I'm not a burden, I'm not untalented, I'm not the worst, and logically I know that. I know people like having me around most of the time, but just like I know pee is sterile doesn't mean I'm going to treat it like it's water. Bad analogy, but whatever. The point is there's a difference between what I know and what I feel.
I'm going on a tangent here, so I'll stop myself. Thanks for reading.
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