♫ Can't trust that day ♫
Monday's (I think) make it look like I'm less Depressed on a weekend.
Weekends, no-one pays any attention to what time I get up. There's nowhere I have to be, nothing I have to get done. So if I choose to shut myself away all weekend, not bother showering, or even get out of my pyjamas, it doesn't register as anomalous, because the rest of the family are doing things in their own time too, wandering around in dressing-gowns and generally taking things easy. It's the weekend after all, a time we're all allowed to be lazy.
Roll on Monday. All the other grown ups in the house are bustling around, getting showered, dressed, ready to face the day, making sure the youngster is ready for school, getting lunches sorted, finding shoes, wishing each other a good day. Today it will be registered that I wasn't up when everyone else left for work, they'll be conscious that I didn't shower again (yet - the day isn't over), and the family will NOTICE that I'm not engaged with life (or they won't, Depression also makes me think that everyone else believes I'm useless).
All of this makes me think (in my over-sensitive, paranoid, unable not to over-think it mindset), that Mondays are even Monday-ier when Depression is being felt. When the working world is groaning that it's Monday, and doing it anyway, what makes me so special? Why do I not just do it too? Why do I 'get' to stay in bed while everyone else is able to contribute to the world?
Mondays make me wonder if the Depression is real, or if I really am just being lazy. This is the part I find the most difficult about Depression. On one hand, clearly it's real. I have a large number of people, qualified and otherwise, who are genuinely concerned about me. I am being prescribed medications for a recognized illness. I continue to be referred to counselling and therapists. Obviously it's real. On the other hand, my internal monologue is telling me I'm lazy. That if I can get out of bed that day, I should be able to on any day. That if I can make it to work then, why can't I just go today. That voice is buried deep in my head, and no matter how many times I try to convince myself it's not me, it's not true, it's not real, it keeps talking, and it's manipulative.
The voice lives inside my head. It has access to all of the things that make me, well, me. So it knows my vulnerabilities. It knows how much I respect hard work, how much I admire selflessness, and how hard I have always tried to contribute to the life of those around me. So when I can't do or be these things, it's these things the voice uses to hurt me with. That I'm lazy. That I'm useless. That I'm a drain on other people. That I'm taking advantage of 'the system' (if only it were that easy!). That I'm a waste of space. That I'm dragging other people down. That I'm a societal parasite. My worst nightmare.
Mondays. *sigh*
Derri
*Apologies for no post last week.
Weekends, no-one pays any attention to what time I get up. There's nowhere I have to be, nothing I have to get done. So if I choose to shut myself away all weekend, not bother showering, or even get out of my pyjamas, it doesn't register as anomalous, because the rest of the family are doing things in their own time too, wandering around in dressing-gowns and generally taking things easy. It's the weekend after all, a time we're all allowed to be lazy.
Roll on Monday. All the other grown ups in the house are bustling around, getting showered, dressed, ready to face the day, making sure the youngster is ready for school, getting lunches sorted, finding shoes, wishing each other a good day. Today it will be registered that I wasn't up when everyone else left for work, they'll be conscious that I didn't shower again (yet - the day isn't over), and the family will NOTICE that I'm not engaged with life (or they won't, Depression also makes me think that everyone else believes I'm useless).
All of this makes me think (in my over-sensitive, paranoid, unable not to over-think it mindset), that Mondays are even Monday-ier when Depression is being felt. When the working world is groaning that it's Monday, and doing it anyway, what makes me so special? Why do I not just do it too? Why do I 'get' to stay in bed while everyone else is able to contribute to the world?
Mondays make me wonder if the Depression is real, or if I really am just being lazy. This is the part I find the most difficult about Depression. On one hand, clearly it's real. I have a large number of people, qualified and otherwise, who are genuinely concerned about me. I am being prescribed medications for a recognized illness. I continue to be referred to counselling and therapists. Obviously it's real. On the other hand, my internal monologue is telling me I'm lazy. That if I can get out of bed that day, I should be able to on any day. That if I can make it to work then, why can't I just go today. That voice is buried deep in my head, and no matter how many times I try to convince myself it's not me, it's not true, it's not real, it keeps talking, and it's manipulative.
The voice lives inside my head. It has access to all of the things that make me, well, me. So it knows my vulnerabilities. It knows how much I respect hard work, how much I admire selflessness, and how hard I have always tried to contribute to the life of those around me. So when I can't do or be these things, it's these things the voice uses to hurt me with. That I'm lazy. That I'm useless. That I'm a drain on other people. That I'm taking advantage of 'the system' (if only it were that easy!). That I'm a waste of space. That I'm dragging other people down. That I'm a societal parasite. My worst nightmare.
Mondays. *sigh*
Derri
*Apologies for no post last week.
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