Last week started well. My new employers gave me a very positive assessment. The sun was shining. I'd enjoyed a quiet weekend.
Then, the Depression fired it's big gun at me. What is the point?
I tried to dodge it. I tried to spend more time with family, I tried to get enough sleep. A migraine tried to claim me, so Wednesday I spent in bed. I fought hard. I was exhausted, but I wasn't going to keep losing. Thursday I went to work. By the time I got home, things were going badly. Depression had rallied it's allies. The migraine had settled in, and my guts decided that now was a good time to cleanse. Friday I gave in for a while. Fighting is hard.
Friday night, a few people came over, and I gathered myself together and tried to soak in some good times. I didn't last long. A couple of hours and I was totally out of energy. So I called it a night and went to bed.
The weekend? Was bad. Leaving a migraine in charge, with the question of What is the point? echoing in my brain, the Depression had found the door marked 'suicidal thoughts' and was picking the lock.
I haven't fought Suicidal Thoughts for a while. They're mean. Really mean. First they overwhelm me with feelings of uselessness, of being a burden. Feelings of isolation, of being unaccepted. Then, when I feel as welcome as cat shit in your bedroom, Suicidal Thoughts try and be my best friend. You don't have to feel like this. You could end it all, now. They'd be happier if you did. No one loves you. You make no impact in the world
FUCK OFF YOU LYING BASTARDS.
My real best friends, the ones who truly love me, told me I'm important.
My genuine friends, people who worry about me, told me they like me.
My family, the ones who took me in to take care of me, told me they love me.
My family, who live far away, told me they care.
My colleagues, who I've known only a month, told me I'm doing well.
We're not lying, they are. How can you be important? You have no talent at anything. How can they like you? You don't spend time with them. Why would they love you? You're a horrible person. How could they care about you? They don't really know you. You're a horrible person. You're not doing well, you're doing a job anyone could do.
I don't believe you. Leave me alone. Stop bullying me. I barricaded myself in bed, and worked on not giving in.
We're at a stalemate. I'm not giving in, and they're waiting to pounce.
So I'm back at base-camp. I need to be better prepared for climbing, take some time to find some better mental climbing shoes. My slippers are great, but they make it easy to go back to bed. Shoes that won't slip back down the mountain. I need some.
Derri
Then, the Depression fired it's big gun at me. What is the point?
I tried to dodge it. I tried to spend more time with family, I tried to get enough sleep. A migraine tried to claim me, so Wednesday I spent in bed. I fought hard. I was exhausted, but I wasn't going to keep losing. Thursday I went to work. By the time I got home, things were going badly. Depression had rallied it's allies. The migraine had settled in, and my guts decided that now was a good time to cleanse. Friday I gave in for a while. Fighting is hard.
Friday night, a few people came over, and I gathered myself together and tried to soak in some good times. I didn't last long. A couple of hours and I was totally out of energy. So I called it a night and went to bed.
The weekend? Was bad. Leaving a migraine in charge, with the question of What is the point? echoing in my brain, the Depression had found the door marked 'suicidal thoughts' and was picking the lock.
I haven't fought Suicidal Thoughts for a while. They're mean. Really mean. First they overwhelm me with feelings of uselessness, of being a burden. Feelings of isolation, of being unaccepted. Then, when I feel as welcome as cat shit in your bedroom, Suicidal Thoughts try and be my best friend. You don't have to feel like this. You could end it all, now. They'd be happier if you did. No one loves you. You make no impact in the world
FUCK OFF YOU LYING BASTARDS.
My real best friends, the ones who truly love me, told me I'm important.
My genuine friends, people who worry about me, told me they like me.
My family, the ones who took me in to take care of me, told me they love me.
My family, who live far away, told me they care.
My colleagues, who I've known only a month, told me I'm doing well.
We're not lying, they are. How can you be important? You have no talent at anything. How can they like you? You don't spend time with them. Why would they love you? You're a horrible person. How could they care about you? They don't really know you. You're a horrible person. You're not doing well, you're doing a job anyone could do.
I don't believe you. Leave me alone. Stop bullying me. I barricaded myself in bed, and worked on not giving in.
We're at a stalemate. I'm not giving in, and they're waiting to pounce.
So I'm back at base-camp. I need to be better prepared for climbing, take some time to find some better mental climbing shoes. My slippers are great, but they make it easy to go back to bed. Shoes that won't slip back down the mountain. I need some.
Derri



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