What if I could actually figure out how my brain works? Wouldn’t that be great?
I’ve been mulling this over a lot lately. My brain is so confusing. I just don’t understand how it works. Everyone knows I’ve been massively struggling with my depression all this year, I’ve been back in some very dark places, but now, finally, things have been starting to look up. Despite the murderous heat, I’ve dragged myself kicking and screaming back to a place of general positively and joy. But only in some ways.
On the outside, I’ve gotten better. Leaving my apartment isn’t even work for me right now, and hanging out with friends I love is only giving me the joy I know I’m supposed to feel and not putting me in that pit of despair where I think none of these people really want me around. My brain is recognizing and comfortable with being in happy, relaxed situations and I get to enjoy it.
The shitty thing is that now, all the bad shit has moved out of my head and into my apartment. Now that I’m semi-functional, depression is manifesting in a very physical way all over my living space.
Let me tell you what my apartment looks like right now, and later we’ll get around to “why”.
Enter the front door and there’s not only dust and grossness all over the floor, there’s also a paper bag that’s just lying there on the floor for no reason. I could easily bend down, pick it up and throw it away. Do I do it? Nope.
Enter kitchen. My vacuum cleaner is lying on the floor, plugged in, ready for use. Do I use it? Nope. The kitchen floor is disgusting, and the counter is covered in crumbs and empty plastic things that I haven’t been able to move all the way to the trash can. The side of my sink is piled with dirty dishes. It would take me fifteen minutes to get rid of all the crumbs and stains that occupy my kitchen. Yet I don’t do it.
Then there’s my laundry rack that is just piled with clothes that should have been put back in the closet weeks ago, my living room is basically The Land of Things Not Put Away Properly like a damn children’s room, and don’t even get me started on the state of my rat’s cage or the bathroom sink.
Point is, my socializing brain may have gotten better, but one look at my apartment tells me I’m not doing as well as I think I am. I can keep blaming the insane heat, but the fact of the matter is that I just don’t have the energy to do anything when I’m home. There are so many things I want do do, like write again and make my natural habitat presentable to other humans, but I just… don’t. Honestly, this manifestation of depression is kind of a new stage for me. I’ve always been able to keep my outside presentable while my insides were falling apart. Now you can see outside what my insides look like, and I don’t like it. I don’t like having to stare at the disaster around me every day and know that this is what I really feel like.
Depression, let me ask you this question; why can’t you ever just go the fuck away? Like, totally. You don’t even have to stay away, but just stop it with the bits and pieces. When you’re here, be all here, but in the moments when you’re gone, can’t you just be… gone?
Thanks for reading, I apologize if the tone was too bitchy, I got my period this morning and cramps are a fucking nightmare. But hey, I wrote a blog post! For the second week in a row! It can only go up from here?
Oh oh, quick thanks to a pretty great human who told me yesterday that he liked my blog and my writing. It sent me flying over the moon and is probably why I was able to do an actual blog post today.
Also shout-out to my absolutely legendary friend Jackson, who is currently in the hospital dealing with the return of his cancer, and handling it like an absolute hero. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s gonna come out the other side of this the same flamboyantly fabulous human he is, but somehow even stronger. We’re all here for you, babe, you’re not in this alone, we are not going anywhere ❤
Best of luck with making all your dreams come true, or just surviving the day, whichever one you need right now.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a… novel to write?
Writing Up My Serotonin 