Written Words

I'm depressed.

Not sad. It's not *about* anything. Nothing's wrong.

Just...depressed.

Irritable, hate myself, picking apart every single thing I do and looking at it in the worst possible light, and wishing it were all just over somehow.

I don't want to kill myself, thankfully. My will to live is pretty low, though, but in an apathy sort of way. My amazing son is usually my reason for living, but when I'm depressed like this I start to think he's better off without me as his mom, because I'm just screwing everything up.

It will pass. I'll get over it. Things will get better. But, sometimes it's just hard. I want to hide from everyone, but at the same time I want praise and validation, but then again I just *know* it would be empty so I don't want to hear it.

I hate how depression leeches the fun out of things I love doing the rest of the time. I want to grab myself by the shoulders and scream, "What's wrong with you?" But, I know what's wrong with me. It's so frustrating! In some ways it helps to know what's wrong, but in other ways it makes it worse. The depression tells me I'm a failure by letting it win. I should be stronger than this....

So, if there's anybody else hanging on by your fingernails, I guess you're not alone. Words of wisdom are beyond me. I want to be strong, but at the same time I want to curl up and cry and give up.

Well, on a more positive note, the more I get to know my sister-in-law, the better I like her. She's rough around the edges...sometimes downright harsh...but I've come to appreciate that more in the last few years. Brutal honesty. I really prefer that to manipulative duplicity, even if that's what I grew up with and it feels nicer in the short term.

I should write, but there's so many other things going on right now. How sad is that? I'm so depressed I'm making excuses not to write. blah