So, I know I have been away for a bit. I am actually shocked by how long ago my last post was. I really wish I could say I was doing something fun. But in reality I have been trapped in the hellscape of my own mind known as depression.
It’s actually super weird to even say that word in this blog because I rarely talk about it. Even in my real life with my actual friends that I love and trust. But here goes; I have been depressed for the past two weeks. And the thing about depression for me is: I don’t even realize it at first. I just feel tired and sad and I lose all my normal excitement over the things I love.
And that is a total fucking dick move. Because the things I love, like writing, reading, crafting, and cooking are things that might actually have the power to help me feel at least a little better. But I can’t do them. So I do nothing.
And then I feel bad for doing nothing. And that turns into some other whole huge guilt thing like I owe the world my productivity.
Usually when I am sad I can still muster up some humor for this blog. Or I have a backlog of stories and can post one and pretend I am fine. I am good at pretending I am fine. But that didn’t happen this time either.
This time I did nothing. When I realized what was happening, I actually told someone about it. Like, while it was happening…for the first time in my entire life. That first person I told was super cool and supportive (as always, D). And then I told someone else, my sister J, who was also super cool and supportive.
And everybody just let me be sad so it was this whole weird snowball thing where I suddenly now feel like I can talk about it on this blog which is really where I have always wanted to wind up. It’s kind of like having a superpower. But instead of telekinesis I can actually talk about my feelings like a human being.
It isn’t a big deal, but at the same time it kind of feels like the hugest deal ever. I know most of you will know exactly what I mean. Which is good because I am not being very articulate right now.
Just when I was feeling better emotionally I caught a cold. I have spent the last two days sleeping or watching romantic comedies which are really one of the worst things on Earth. I am not sure why I watch them when I am sick.
When I am not sick romantic comedies usually make me feel repulsed and bored and uncomfortable. It is nothing but sexism and the same boring plot in every single fucking one. Throw in some creepy stalking and offensive stereotypes and there you have the romantic comedy. So who knows why I watch them when I don’t feel well, but I do. I am ashamed of my Netflix recently watched queue at the moment.
I promise I am not done telling stories and being ‘funny.’ I have so much more to talk about on here. But for now, I am going to end with one quick story:
I am a “what if” person. One of my ex’s used to say I would hypothetical him to death. I was even like that growing up.
My father used to interrupt my barrage of ‘what ifs’ with the same response every time. He’d say “What if the moon was made of green cheese and mice could fly?”
This was his nicest possible way of getting me to shut the hell up. But it really invited more questions for me.
I mean, the moon isn’t even green. And cheese isn’t green. And how could the moon be made out of dairy products if there were no cows in space?
Also, what kind of flying were the mice doing? If they could fly like a bird then the moon was probably safe because they wouldn’t be able to survive in space. I mean, it’s not like you ever hear of birds in space.
If mice had personal spacecraft that they could use to breach our atmosphere then I think we would have bigger problems than them eating the moon. What the hell does the moon do for us anyway? Something to do with the ocean tides?
Do mice even like cheese?
And that was usually when my father would tell me to shut the hell up. And I would. But seriously, what kind of crazy ass thing is that to say to someone? Did anyone else’s parents say that to them?