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The Room That Depression Built

If you know me, or are my friend on Facebook at the very least, you know my grandma comments on everything I do. Telling me how proud she is and how awesome I am. I am saddened to say, for what feels like the millionth time, that I lost her last month. I am not okay and I’m really still not ready to talk about how I feel. I pay $150 more than once a month to talk to someone about my depression and how sad I am, who tells me how to talk to people, so really it’s up to her when Im ready, sorry. And sometimes I don’t even talk to her. I pay $150 and hope to god I can stall the entire hour so I don’t have to start talking about my problems.

I struggle with feeling this sad. Of course people think you should be sad, and they you will be sad, but it always feels like they really don’t grasp how sad you actually are. I sit here and really cannot believe most days that I have to live the rest of my life like this, without her. And if we’re being honest I haven’t even started to live life yet, I still stay in my safe zone because depression likes that.

It feels meaningless to do anything noteworthy or post anything about what I’m doing, because she’s not here to tell me how great it is anymore. And I know there are steps to grief, allegedly, and I’m working through them in a completely normal way, allegedly. I think if my therapist saw me crying in the freezer section of Kroger she might feel differently. But I’m just at the point now where I’m like what is the point?

There comes a time when you have to start trying to do normal things, or at least step out of the depression fog. Like for example, showering. However, as I was cleaning my room, which was completely necessary because showering once a week, eating, and spending the remaining 164 hours a week in bed makes for a very questionable hygienic scene, I was thinking. Cleaning up a depression nest makes you feel a little better, because you can rest and not smell your old armpits, but it gives the illusion of moving forward. Someone sees a clean room, clean hair, going back to work, and they think oh good things are on the up and up. But like, inside you still feel dead. You do the things you have to because you have to. Not one part of you feels okay, or better. So it creates this resistance to move forward with mundane activities, not because you’re trying to seem extra sad to people, but you don’t want to seem okay when you’re actually not.

I dont want to go to the grocery store, I don’t want to clean my room, I don’t want to go back to work. Because these are indicators that we’re well enough to do these things, that we feel up to these things, that we’re getting back to “normal”. It just invites people to ask more things of you, you went to the store, so do you think you want to come to this party? Or hey you’re cleaning and getting yourself ready do you want to come help me with this thing really quick?

And it sounds mean, but I just don’t. Doing what seems like the bare minimum is more than I can handle, but I have to do these things. My insides still feel they weigh 4x what they used to. I can’t magically feel better, please don’t tell me to feel better. I would love to wake up one day and not feel like this, but that hasn’t happened yet. If I could, I would still spend 20 hours of my day in my room. Normal seems like such a gross word, nothing will literally ever be normal again.

However, it’s not even been a month. They say time heals everything but I think time is a bitch. It decides to be slow at the most inopportune times, it speeds up when you don’t want it to. Whoever invented time sucks and I hate them.

I guess I write this, because I haven’t written anything in forever, and to tell you even if people start to do things, start posting on social media, and move on, and clean up their depression nests, it doesn’t mean they’re magically okay. I still feel like I want to punch a hole in my wall 7 times a day and cry an alarming amount of times a day. However, now I just do it in a clean bed, because depression tries to trick you by keeping you worse off.

Now, a shameless plug since I’ve taken time away from my personal social medias. I still work on my true crime podcast Almost with my friend Taryn. I do all our social media, so if you want to follow us along there, and hear my voice once a week, you may do so here:

Now, I shall go back to not writing for a month and spend the entire time cleaning up my animal crossings island. And you can’t judge me for it, because I get a free pass for like a year or five.

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