I’ve been waiting to post something  for awhile. Waiting for some magnificent, poignant, meaningful, uplifting bit of something to find its way into my head and out through my fingers. And you know what I’ve come up with?

NADA. Zip, zilch, zero.

Over the course of the last couple of months, I’ve slipped back into a bit of a depression. And this time, it was sneaky. There was no breakdown, no moment where I saw myself heading downward and could have stopped myself. I just gradually got more and more tired. Like, the kind of tired where you can sleep for days and still wake up feeling like you haven’t had a bit of rest. I stopped doing things I normally enjoy, because even if I want to do them, I just don’t have the energy. Most of those things that I felt were tearing my life apart before have worked out in one way or another, and I thought that that would help. It should help when things that I’ve been so worried about work out. But it doesn’t.

I don’t even know how to explain the war going on inside my head. I’ve noticed myself pulling away from all the people I love the most. I don’t want to. It breaks my heart to see that distance forming, but it’s just another thing I want to fix and just can’t. I despise being in my home. It’s a constant disaster, and no one else will do anything about it, and when I try, I just wind up sitting in my floor crying because I’m so frustrated and exhausted and I just can’t make myself keep going.

I have 3 shoots worth of pictures I need to get edited and back to clients, and two more major shoots coming up. I don’t want to edit my pictures, which is one of my favorite things to do. I don’t want to do the shoots, even though I’m ecstatic to be working. I’m just dreading the amount of work I’ll have to put into them. Precious hours I would rather spend hiding under a blanket alone.

I feel as though my personality is trapped. Like the me that’s stuck with no energy and no drive and no smiles is what I’m stuck with because the real me is inside, screaming and clawing at the inside of my mind. She can see it all from there. How far I’m falling, how far I’m going to go if I don’t stop it, all the things I could do to make things better if only I could find a way to make myself do it. As exhausted as I am, that me is far from calm. I feel like my insides are so shaken up they’ll never calm down.

I want to call my friends and make plans with them and then be fun when I get there instead of being a downer the whole time or just avoiding everyone completely so I don’t bring them down with me. I want to take pictures, not just for work but just because it’s something I love to do. I want to get my house clean because I know that at least will make me feel a little better.

I talked to my therapist the other day, and she thinks my meds need adjusted, and honestly, I think she’s probably right. Unfortunately, that has to wait till my doctor can see me at the end of the month. So till then, I’m going to keep trudging on and fighting every day to get out of bed, because I have to. I can’t let the darkness win. Not when I’ve fought so hard to get where I am.

Depression is an asshole. An asshole and a liar and a monster. Words to remember.

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