I’ve been fighting it… and I think I have to finally admit defeat.
I’m depressed. In a serious way. I have struggled with depression my entire life. Usually… it is kept at a mild, functioning level but there are times when it peaks… and I run into serious trouble. This is one of those times and I hate it. I hate to admit it. I hate that I have to go into my doctor and try to explain what is going on in my head.
I don’t tell friends and family because I can’t stand being worried about. I can’t stand pity. I isolate myself because I hate pretending that I’m okay and that everything is fine. It takes too much energy. I am fine, as long as I can sleep 14 hours a day, eat, watch TV and not be forced to interact with anyone. I don’t get dressed unless I have to. I feel like I just can’t be fucking bothered.
Fuck me – time to go visit my doctor and let her in on the ‘good’ news… while I’m still ‘well’ enough to even be able to do that.
I’m SO tempted not to post this… but the first step is admitting the problem, right?
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