These days I want to pull my old raggedy torn blanket over myself and curl in a ball and sleep until I feel better, which may take weeks, and I don’t care that it may take long.
Leaving the house is hard. Groceries are a pain in the ass to go get because I have to interact with people.
Getting the boy ready for school is hard.
Cleaning the house and doing general maintenance on it and on myself is hard.
These things shouldn’t be hard. And I’m tired of having people tell me to just be positive.
My friend Chris said, “Telling a person with depression to just be positive is like telling a person with a broken leg to walk it off.” He’s right. For someone so far in the hole telling them to just be positive is like telling someone to move a mountain with their mind.
I’ll be fine. I’m frustrated and scared and overwhelmed and tired and at the same time can’t seem to sit still all the time every single day. I’ll be fine, but in the meantime I need an old torn blanket I can hide under and someone to tell me that it’s okay to feel like shit sometimes.
I don’t understand how I can feel so alone and so annoyed with company. How can I feel lonely yet want everyone in the world to just get the fuck out of my face?
