Slipping up 2013-01-19

Depression is an odd thing. You start to obsess and think you deserve how bad you feel, which makes you feel bad, feeding the cycle all the way down. You start to feel it like it's normal; eventually you take comfort in your own misery.

It starts to take inhuman amounts of energy to do anything. I used to not be able to get out of bed in the morning if I didn't spend a good while calling myself a piece of shit for not moving. Other normal habits start to fall by the wayside as well, laundry, cleaning, grooming. Waking up in the morning surrounded by scattered clothes, getting food from from a kitchen with dirty dishes overflowing out of the sink only makes you feel worse. It starts a spiral that perpetuates itself until... until something breaks.

It's something you need to constantly be on the lookout for, otherwise it'll creep up on you and send you into its dark feedback loop. I've been trying to ensure that I don't slack on normal civilized-human things. I've been making sure to convert my bed back into a couch when I wake up. I've been making sure my kitchen is always clean.

I've already messed up a bit by leaving clothes somewhat scattered around (I don't really have a hamper at the moment D:), and by not always eating meals at the table. I've also been unable to get out of bed until later and later each day. I've been worrying that I'm starting to slip up.

Last night I found myself drifting off to sleep and I slipped; I thought "tonight would be a good night to die", for a brief moment I felt comforted by it.

Fuck. (I actually said that out loud.)

So what does this mean?; I'm not entirely sure.

Being open has helped me in so many ways; I've been struggling to maintain that. I can't really be open at work (it is work, afterall). Besides, it has actually become harder to talk and be open about things; it's part of the reason I've not been streaming much (the other being my spotty connection in my apartment). I've been having trouble keeping up with what people say, and finding the right kinds of things inside myself to say back. Sometimes the words just aren't there anymore.

Ick, I'm sure I'll figure something out.

with love,