And I'm cussing like a sailor.
Not really. But tonight I'm attempting to get back into a mood where I AM cussing like a sailor. Because that would mean at least I have the energy to fucking fight.
Depression is one Goddamn motherfucking bitch. And the fucking bitch has come back with flying colors the last few weeks.
No, "flying colors" isn't right. Because depression has no color. It's just dark and foggy and dreary. And heavy. Goddamn, is it ever heavy. It fucking holds you down sometimes.
Like when it won't let you get out of bed. Or if it does allow you to leave the bed, the couch suddenly develops it's own fucking gravitational pull.
And so you sit on the couch.
No tv. No music. No nothing. Just you and the damn couch. The couch holds you down and you crawl up in your head and think of Bad Things. Sad things. You try not to, but the fucking bastards wiggle their way in.
So yeah. Me and the couch. We've been pretty close buddies lately.
But you know what's really fucking hard? Explaining depression to a loved one who doesn't understand it. And you can't explain it.
But you're lying to yourself. You can explain it. You just don't want to. Because whatever way you spin it, you will sound like a damn child.
A five year old child who doesn't want to do anything and is scared of everything. Who doesn't want to leave the bed. Or get off the couch. Or leave the house. Or go to work.
Because everything is just sad. You're not doing what you should be doing with your life. And there's no way you can change that that isn't incredibly fucking slow.
Depression is certainly not known for it's patience. And it's too hard to deal with the way your life is currently.
So it's easier to just not leave the bed.
But I'm tired of holding it in and not fucking whining about it.
I have a friend who is having major surgery soon. And she felt bad for talking about it, for saying how scary it was to her. She's got nothing on some people. Someone always has it worse. Like an amputee, for example.
Well, what about the amputee who is missing a leg? Should they not complain, because somewhere there's an amputee who is missing both legs? Or what about the amputee who is missing all their limbs?
Everyone has their own pain. You shouldn't dismiss yours just because you're not the only person with pain.
Fuck. I don't know how to finish this thought. But it seemed important enough to record, to write down.
Don't dismiss your own pain, no matter what it is. Try to be strong and face that motherfucker head on. But don't dismiss it, don't ignore it. Sometimes that gives it more power.
And that's the last thing we all need.