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?
*sigh*
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.
We really should talk. I’m in that same pit. These past few weeks have been SHITTY. The meds no longer work. Ugh. I love you, E! You’re so not alone.
I’m sorry, E. You’re right, mania is much, much better. Hugs.