Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Hrmm.

Why do we automatically close ourselves off from others when we're depressed? That's kind of when we need them most, right?  Ah, but the stigma, oh that dastardly stigma of actually needing another human being. Of not being invincible. Being weak.

Well, folks, I'm gonna tell you the truth: I am fucking depressed. No shit, you might say! Yeah, yeah; well, sometimes I have to spell it out for my own sake, and you get to come along for the ride.

I used to move around a lot, serial monogamist and all that comes with it. Each time I moved, I hoped I'd finally feel Good. Like I belonged in this life and it wanted me around. And each time, just after getting settled, I'd be right back to my ol' pal depression and all the stupid things he tells me.

"You should totally cry yourself into a ball, that'll fix you."
"Let's punch that wall a few hundred times!"
"Ah, fuckit; no one would notice, and if they did, they'd forget soon enough."
"You're worthless."
"Useless."
"Give up."

He's a right fucking bastard asshole, that one.

So I take the pills, I talk to the therapist, I reach out to people but my shyness/depression/whatever the fuck forces me to scuttle away and hide or they're just not fucking interested, which I can't honestly blame them for feeling.

Hell, I don't even know how my hub has made it this long dealing with me.

But he has, and if HE can put up with me and my various shit, then I damn well can too.

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What began as a blog for anonymous bitches has morphed into a blog wherein I bitch about stupid things.