On Being Depressed

Depression is a junk yard dog that always follow me,
bobbing and weaving in and out of shadows,
and he's always there,
a few steps behind,
waiting for me to stop moving so he can
pounce.

I know he's there--
he's always been there--
but his pounce surprises me, still,
every
single
time.

In all honesty, I'm just not in a good place, mentally. 

I'm irritable. Short tempered. Restless. 

But mostly... I'm depressed.

I'm already on the max dosage of the antidepressant I take, and I can't afford to go to the doctor anyway, to see about changing something up or adding something else. 

I hate this feeling. I feel so powerless about everything, and my body is just craving sleep.

I still haven't watered my plants.

Some of them are really struggling right now. My neglect is staring back at me.

I will say this: last night was good.

It was good to get out of the house. Good to go on a date. Good to be in a queer space with my fiancée. Good to be affectionate without having to worry about being targeted.

It was good to meet other lesbians. To just hang out and be gay, with other women around our age. It was low key and chill and easy.

Everyone was just... nice.

And then, we came home and made out (and a little more), which was pretty fucking great.

And then, we fell asleep, which is why I didn't blog yesterday.

To add... I'm feeling stuck and trapped without a car.

But then... I'm also sleeping so incredibly late that it doesn't even matter that I don't have a car... my fiancée comes home sometime between 2:30-3pm, so I could theoretically leave the house then.

But that means I'd miss out on spending time with her. 

I'm just struggling right now.

I need something to change for me.

I need a big, good change. 

And, for fuck's sake, I need money.

Where did my motivation go? Where did the momentum that I had last week go? Where did the shred of energy go? 

It all fucking disappeared after I was turned down for yet another job.

I feel like I'm living life in hard mode right now, and I can't seem to break out of it. 

There's still a piece of me that just doesn't believe that I'm meant to go back to working full time, that I'm meant to use this time to do something else, creatively.

And, honestly... I'd love to do something like go back to Alto. That job was easy, fun, and most of the time pretty enjoyable.

I wish I hadn't fucked it up.

But... I did.

I can't even approach returning there until March 18th (that'll be the 6 month mark from when I was fired).

With the shit-ass luck I've had lately, I'll probably still be looking for work by then.

Fuck... I've also got to do something about my attitude, because this isn't getting me anywhere except further down, closer to the basement... and that's no good. It's not productive or helpful.

If I were a friend, sitting next to me right now, I'd say to me... "Your feelings are valid. This is a temporary moment in your life, and you don't have to have everything figured out right now. Actually... you don't have to have everything figured out... ever."

Why is it so hard to live that, though?

I've literally lived with clinical depression for my entire life. 

Why does it still level me? Why does it still have so much power over me? Why do I still get so frustrated when I'm depressed? 

Why do I still have these tropes in my brain that tell me that if I could just get out of bed earlier, if I could just get outside, move my body, try a different vitamin, or whatever... that I'd finally win against depression? Why is there still some tiny sliver of my being that genuinely believes that crap?

It's like I'm waiting for something to save me from my own thoughts and feelings.

And, I know-- no one is coming. No one is going to save me, rescue me.

No one.

Because depression isn't a thing that can be beaten to death or otherwise conquered. For me, depression is clinical. I learned that as soon as I started a medication that actually worked. It was instant. The morning I first took the antidepressant that works... I immediately stopped being depressed. I will never forget that morning, or what I was doing, and where I was. That morning, my life changed forever. It was in January, 2013. 

But depression has a way of persisting, even with medication.

I would probably be able to keep the depression at bay if I could afford to go back to therapy... or if I could afford a personal trainer... or if I could afford whatever else might "fix" me. 

See? 

I still go back to looking for a "fix" of some kind, because, you know, my brain is broken.

I am broken.

What I want to type is, "I am useless."

I certainly feel useless.