Things I Hate About Depression

IMG_0371.JPG1. It turns into things that I used to like to do and turns them into things that I “should” do because they would be “good for me.” It used to be that I loved to go to concerts; you could not keep me from concerts; I lied to my parents and stole their car and took the bus for hours and did all sorts of things to get myself to a show. Now I’m just as likely to stay home because of inertia, and I have to make myself leave the house because I tell myself that once I’m out of the house I’ll have fun.

2. My insecurities lie to me, and my depression makes me believe them. I think things like “I have no friends,” and I believe it because I’m depressed, when really I have many people who love me and care for me and who want to help me, they’re just not geographically close enough to help me to not feel isolated.

3. It takes me forever to do everything. Simple tasks take twice as long as they should.

4. Depression makes me selfish and self-centered. When I’m depressed, I want to fix it, I want attention to be paid and I need something to be done about it. I flail around looking for answers and things that will be helpful. The problem is, when I’m depressed, it takes over my brain. It becomes the most important thing. I can’t connect to others because I don’t care how they’re doing because I need to fix this first. It takes over everything. I talk about it with my friends. I think about it all the time. It becomes all about me and sometimes I don’t even think to ask my friends how they’re doing.

5. It takes things that used to be fun and makes them horrible. I started crying at a Slackers show a few months ago. Slackers and Pietasters, a lineup I would’ve killed to see in high school. So I go to this show, and instead of having fun with the music, I start thinking about how I’m not here with friends and can’t stop fixating on the couple near me who are snuggling just a little too much, and I start feeling lonely, and the next thing I know I’m crouched down against the wall crying. At a fucking ska show. Fucking fantastic. I then feel stupid and shitty about myself for the next three days, because what kind of person can’t get it together long enough to enjoy a concert?

6. It makes me tired.

That’s enough for now, I think.

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