Depression is a hell of a thing

One day you’re chugging along and everything is going well. Not great, but you certainly don’t have a whole lot to complain about. You like your job well enough, spend time with friends, fill your downtime with things you enjoy, have a few hobbies, keep on top of the day-to-day items on your to-do list, and generally participate as a functioning member of society.

The next, apparently your job is the worst ever (and you’re shit at it) and even the thought of doing it makes you tired, anxious, and angry. You feel worthless. You have trouble concentrating. You don’t care to do much of anything or see anyone (why would they even want to see you anyways?) if you can help it. Heck, you can barely push yourself to face the day as the alarm clock sounds, forcing you awake with the most evil sounds you’ve ever heard regardless of how much sleep you got. Every day is worse than the one before it. You’re unmotivated and even things you know you enjoy doing provide little in the way of joy or satisfaction.

The latter is how I’ve been feeling lately, and it sucks balls. I didn’t even realize this is what it was at first. The depression for whatever reason manifested itself as feeling like I was coming down with a cold, just on the verge of getting sick but never actually getting sick, I was tired, had trouble concentrating, didn’t want to do much of anything, etc… Then about two weeks later (while I was on vacation; fuck you brain) it landed on me like a ton of bricks. A massive, crushing weight sitting square on my shoulders sapping all my energy to keep it from crushing me. This meant the latter half of my vacation was spent doing little to nothing at all, and I had plans damn it!  To top it all off I still have the physical ailments that came along with how I was feeling before I really identified what this was.

Why am I posting this here? Well for two reasons.

The first and most direct is that I want to write more, simple as that. I recently wrote a letter to someone and felt so much better for having taken the time to write some of my thoughts down and share them. Call it self-therapy if you will, but I feel better when I’m creating something, and I love to write. If I go too long without having made something, well, see paragraph 2 above for an idea of what happens. The second and more fundamental reason is that I really want to start living a more authentic, open, and honest life, and apparently for me that means sharing some of my deepest and darkest thoughts on the internet to anyone who will listen. Whether it works has yet to be seen.