I shouldn't complain, but I will anyway
Like I told my shrink the other day, from the outside, I have nothing to complain about. I have a beautiful home. I have a great husband. Even though my job drives me nuts, it pays me well, and I'm learning a lot. I'm doing quite well financially. I have the best parents in the world.
So why the fuck do I get felled by these bouts of depression and OCD?
On an intellectual level, I know that I have chemical imbalances that cause these illnesses, and they are not a reflection on my strength and worth as a person. But I still feel weak because I can't stay happy. It's like when I was in HS and I lost a lot of weight, then gained it all back in college. I was so disheartened that I didn't even try to lose weight again until my wedding. I sometimes feel like my happiness is just a mirage and something I don't deserve. I look around at others and think, they seem happy and fulfilled. Why not me? And then I get angry at myself, because there are real problems in the world and I'm complaining about a predisposition toward depression, which is treatable. But there are times I want to cry. I want to be normal. I want to not have bad thoughts. I wish I didn't have memories of childhood where I thought everything was depressing. I do believe underneath, I am a happy person, and my depression is temporary. But how low I go scares the crap out of me.
I was feeling yucky and anxious and depressed, and then I read a post on a blog I enjoy. The blogger is bipolar and is going through a severe bout of depression. I immediately fired off an email of support and encouragement, telling her things would get better and advising her to go to bed, that things would look better in the morning. I have another blog friend who has had some depression issues as well, and I've sent him letters of support. Now why can't I speak to myself so compassionately?
I am a good person. I will get through this. I'm better than this shit. I need to follow my own advice and get some good sleep. It felt good writing all this crap out. Thanks for listening.
So why the fuck do I get felled by these bouts of depression and OCD?
On an intellectual level, I know that I have chemical imbalances that cause these illnesses, and they are not a reflection on my strength and worth as a person. But I still feel weak because I can't stay happy. It's like when I was in HS and I lost a lot of weight, then gained it all back in college. I was so disheartened that I didn't even try to lose weight again until my wedding. I sometimes feel like my happiness is just a mirage and something I don't deserve. I look around at others and think, they seem happy and fulfilled. Why not me? And then I get angry at myself, because there are real problems in the world and I'm complaining about a predisposition toward depression, which is treatable. But there are times I want to cry. I want to be normal. I want to not have bad thoughts. I wish I didn't have memories of childhood where I thought everything was depressing. I do believe underneath, I am a happy person, and my depression is temporary. But how low I go scares the crap out of me.
I was feeling yucky and anxious and depressed, and then I read a post on a blog I enjoy. The blogger is bipolar and is going through a severe bout of depression. I immediately fired off an email of support and encouragement, telling her things would get better and advising her to go to bed, that things would look better in the morning. I have another blog friend who has had some depression issues as well, and I've sent him letters of support. Now why can't I speak to myself so compassionately?
I am a good person. I will get through this. I'm better than this shit. I need to follow my own advice and get some good sleep. It felt good writing all this crap out. Thanks for listening.
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