[breathes]

I hate this feeling.  I know it will go away eventually, but at the moment I hate it.  It’s pervasive and frustrating and makes me want to throw things.

I was diagnosed with clinical depression when I was five (something everyone ignored until I tried to kill myself at 11, thanks a lot mom and dad), this is not exactly something new for me.  It’s still irritating, though.  This intense feeling that nothing is right and nothing ever will be right.  The constant nagging about how much of a fuck up I am and how I’ll never be able to amount to anything.  Logically I know it’s wrong.  I know it’s just a biochemical reaction in my brain setting off feelings of hopelessness and despair.  I’ve had a decade’s worth of therapy designed to help me develop coping skills for these exact cycles.  I know it’s just a phase.

That doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.  Sure, after 10+ years I’ve learned to recognise when I’m entering another depressive phase.  I’ve learned when to haul out the happy movies and lock away all medications and sharp objects.  I’ve learned that most of Boyzone cheers me up, but I have to be careful with Westlife (nothing like My Love to make you homesick to the point of suicidal).  I know that exercising releases endorphins that help stabalise my mood, but I can only get up the energy to actually do it if I’m having a better day.  I know that sometimes if I throw myself into writing or music I can outrun a  depressive phase.  None of that helps once it all hits.

Related posts:

1. Gratitude Challenge: 17
2. Invisible Disabilities: They Suck Monkeys.