Tom Ramcigam (magicmarmot) wrote,
Tom Ramcigam

In the throes of another depressive episode.

Nothing that I know of set this one off, no particulatr event or occurrence. It just happens in cycles sometimes.

The only reason that I got out of bed this morning is because the sweet dog needed to go outside NOW, and once I was up I recieved a lot of attention from furry critters. Enough inertia to handle the morning ritual, one small step at a time, thinking of how it would be better if I was just dead.

(Note: this is not a cry for help or thoughts of suicide, I'm just trying to document what this is like for posterity and so that you may understand it better.)

I skipped shaving or brushing my hair because why bother? I did shower and put on clean clothes, pack a lunch (that was hard, yo) and grabbed a slim-fast shake on the way to work. The 'Sploder stared and ran beautifully, traffic was bad but not horrible. Work was busy but not insane.

I'm slowly creeping out of the abyss. The medication does help: without it I would probably have just stayed in bed this morning, unable to get up. And I do mean unable and not just unwilling: not physically unable, but emotionally and mentally unable, like a disconnect between the mental command of get up and the ability to actually get up.

If that seems incomprehensible to you, don't worry. It probably means that you don't have clinical depression. It's a symptom.

As the day progresses, I am occasionally bombarded with random thoughts of how unworthy I am, or how ugly, or how ineffectual. Nothing really triggers them, though I know where some of them come from in the larger sense, and a simple thing like a spelling mistake while typing can trigger a cascade of feelings of worthlessness. I recognize these cascades now as something that will pass-- it doesn't make them go away, but it does make them easier to handle. Once again, the medication having the effect.

I recognize that I am unworthy of being loved. Again, I intellectually get that this is a symptom, something that will pass as this episode goes by, but it doesn't alleviate the certainty, the concreteness with which I feel it. It's as natural as breathing.

It will pass. It's already starting to lessen, like the fog lifting on a cold morning, and by tomorrow I'll be back to some level of normal. But today, right now, I know this feeling, and all I really want to do is sleep.
Tags: depression

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