Weird thing, depression.

Sometimes, it can be a huge source of motivation for me — I will be active and creative to numb myself and just busybusybusy. That was last week.

Other times, I’m a worthless waste of oxygen, because I get NOTHING done. That’s this week.

What are the 7 stages of grief again?


I’ll be OK, I know it. I’ll be sad for a long time, I know that, too. But it’s just tough to sit here at the bottom of the pit and wonder when I’ll get to see the sun again. I know it’s up there. I want to climb out of the pit. But finding the internal strength to DO it is just outside my capacity at the moment. I hate that.

Hopefully next week will be a manic creative week again. I’m bored. I prefer the mania-to-numb-myself to the complete lack of ambition that I’m afflicted by currently.