Yet another depression post
Sep. 13th, 2010 09:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apocalypsosThe great thing about the internet is that I can always feel upset that someone out there might be saying mean or insensitive things about me. (Oh, the joys of depression. My logical brain knows everybody is different and people are perfectly within their rights to think I'm a dink, my depression brain thinks that if someone out there doesn't like me maybe it would just be better if I just wasn't here anymore. Ugh.)
So, yeah. I didn't write anything this weekend. So the closer it got to Monday, the more twitchy and stressed I got, until last night I had the phone number for a depression hotline open in a tab for hours trying to summon up the urge to call it. I feel weird enough as is venting in public posts on the internet -- although, at the same time, I'd feel even weirder doing it friends-only because the whole point of venting on the internet is so I'm being as open about it as I can manage -- but calling a depression hotline just ... well, I already have a hard enough time talking to strangers. At least on my own blogs, people have at least some vague knowledge of me before I let loose on them.
The last week or so since I got back from the trip has been a particular pile of suck. I realized the other day that half of the reason I needed the trip is that it gave me four days to worry about just one thing (money), rather than the five bajillion things I'm usually constantly worrying about (money, work, school, social life, love life, family, writing, etc.). Which seems stupid and weird, but whatever. I felt better than I felt in a while and I still spent four days twitchy and worried.
I wonder if it's really bad that part of the reason I haven't called a damn hotline already is that every time I've felt the need to I haven't had the time thanks to work, or needing to sleep because if not I'd feel even worse at work.
So, yeah. I didn't write anything this weekend. So the closer it got to Monday, the more twitchy and stressed I got, until last night I had the phone number for a depression hotline open in a tab for hours trying to summon up the urge to call it. I feel weird enough as is venting in public posts on the internet -- although, at the same time, I'd feel even weirder doing it friends-only because the whole point of venting on the internet is so I'm being as open about it as I can manage -- but calling a depression hotline just ... well, I already have a hard enough time talking to strangers. At least on my own blogs, people have at least some vague knowledge of me before I let loose on them.
The last week or so since I got back from the trip has been a particular pile of suck. I realized the other day that half of the reason I needed the trip is that it gave me four days to worry about just one thing (money), rather than the five bajillion things I'm usually constantly worrying about (money, work, school, social life, love life, family, writing, etc.). Which seems stupid and weird, but whatever. I felt better than I felt in a while and I still spent four days twitchy and worried.
I wonder if it's really bad that part of the reason I haven't called a damn hotline already is that every time I've felt the need to I haven't had the time thanks to work, or needing to sleep because if not I'd feel even worse at work.
