R is for Ridiculous

Just. Hanging. On. Really, that’s what it’s coming down to.

I feel like I’m in some kind of weird limbo until I get better. Til I get meds. Til the meds kick in. I’m seeing everything through a lens that is labeled, “I’m too depressed.” Every person, every encounter, every opportunity is weighed against a suffocating tide of, “Too depressed.”

Run across a motivational quote. Think, “Clearly, that person has never been depressed.” Listen to a TED talk. Think, “I could do that, if I wasn’t so damn depressed.”

I’m not baking and barely cooking. I am washing my hair, though, so there’s a sense of accomplishment. (That is the kind of thing that becomes a real accomplishment when you’re depressed. Washing your hair and maintaining the vaguest grasp on personal hygiene. Can I get a gold star for that?)

It’s been, maybe, four days (really? that long?) since I’ve been overwhelmed by the “cutting my hands off” thoughts. I have no control over that. So, feeling thankful. I have gotten dressed and walked several blocks both yesterday and today. Gratitude. I’ve done laundry. Yes. Yes, I have. Two loads. (Thank you, I hear that applause.)

I’ve sort of kept up with the A-Z challenge. It’s been a struggle. I’ve mostly been on Twitter. Somehow, only having to work in 140 characters seems more attainable. Manageable. Just barely. We’ll see how it goes.

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I’m participating in the Blogging from A-to-Z April Challenge! Read about it here.