Diarhyea

My brain is not working. My mind is unable to find a way out of this. I don't want to go back on medication, it feels like failure and I KNOW that's fucking stupid but there you go. My mind is fucking with me. My depression doesn't want me to get better. It fills my head with cotton wool. The air is like wading through porridge. I'm slow and stupid and broken and useless and wrong.

Another fkn diary entry

I am so dumb. I mean, in certain ways. I know that in general I'm fucking smart, perceptive, and know a shitload of stuff. I am also smart enough to grasp my limitations and, sadly, perceive my declining intellect.

But some things. Fuck me. Nearly thirty years of adult life and I'm still being surprised about stuff that other people seem to have grasped in their infancy. For instance it only just occurred to me the other day that most people don't think about suicide all the time.

I mean, I get that in the depths of my depression last year I was thinking about killing myself an abnormal amount - and with a level of detail that was definitely indicative of psychosis. But what I didn't understand or think to tell my doctor or therapist was that thinking about suicide was normal for me. A daily thing.

I didn't think to let anyone know about the baseline because I had no idea it wasn't normal. How fucked is that? What an idiot.

Diary?

I have to be ok with not being ok. Acceptance and all that bullshit. That's one of the hardest parts, especially since I struggle to accept that I'm depressed at all. Despite diagnoses, despite obvious signs, despite the fact I have known this for years without properly facing it.

Talking about it with others helps, though that's another struggle altogether - being open about being crazy. I've done a bit of that this weekend and it's exhausting. And seems to have no effect on quieting my mind or resolving my thoughts.

But it has to be good for me, right? Everyone says it is and they can't be wrong. I hope one day to notice the benefits.