Inordinate Amount of Crap

I don't want to be the Queen of Melodrama. The High Priestess of Pity Parties. The Princess of Pout... I honestly don't want to make my friends worry about me or make late night phone calls that involve me going into details about my depression. I hate being that person but lately I've taken that route because it's far better than offing myself.

Sorry if that sounds brutal but let me just start off by saying that I realize suicide doesn't solve anything and actually just makes things worse in a BIG way, so I don't want anything to do with it. However, late at night when I've been thinking too long I start getting very scared that the logical side of me that is willing to go on - flawed or not - has left the building. I'm worried that I'm going to OD on Tylenol PM or purposefully dose myself on Ambien and fall off to sleep in the bath... or the cutting. I shouldn't even have cutlery that's not made purely out of plastic.

But I do. So I spend these long nights fighting off the wish to end it all. It's tiring and so my days at work are horrid. I feel worse about myself because I haven't accomplished anything and that's begets another night of fighting with the "you suck" demon. Then the cycle keeps on cycling and bills aren't paid and projects aren't done and my apartment starts looking like Hurricane Crap roamed through.

I don't want you to come over and hold my hand through all of this. I'm not sad... I'm depressed. That means that my mind tends to drift to self-destructive and self-defeating trains of thought. That I tend to beat myself up for hours at a time and what I really need is to be distracted.

I need to forget that I'm a crying sad sack and that there is more mascara under my eye than above it. I need to forget that I've gained weight with all the emotional eating and be reminded that it's like ten pounds and most of it went to my boobs and butt and doesn't look half bad. I need to forget that people have hurt me and left and remember that there are still really powerfully good people in my life who give a shit.

But it's easier to stay with the same old song and I need to stave that off with all I've got because it's stupid. I don't choose to feel this way but when it happens I need to choose something to do about it which is of course the LAST thing anyone with depression really WANTS to do. But I'd rather live so tonight I might rebuild Oona's lego castle for the fifth time. So be it. Some part of my mind can think I'm pathetic because I'm glad that I'm still alive to have that thought.

'Night