Depression (5/3/15)

So I went to the doctor a week or two ago (gotta check the appointment date) and I’ve been diagnosed with depression. But, I still have lucidity and had a relatively decent grasp over it, y’know, no crying jags or whatever.

Not like I hadn’t wanted to cry. In front of other people, even though *I* have never tried to manipulate anyone, it just feels inherently manipulative when I cry, even though I never make that judgement about other people. I’m a reverse hypocrite. I hate crying in front of other people. By myself, I feel like it’s okay, ‘cause in solitude, tears are a release for me. But I couldn’t. At all. Just aching, but I couldn’t since the the 14th of April. A side effect I didn’t expect. It certainly feels like a sorry state when you WANT the ability to cry.

This past Friday, I finally did a little because someone could be proud of me when I can’t bear being me. I don’t know the emotion behind why I did. Was I relieved? Did it hurt more? I don’t know. Because I hate myself now. More than I ever did before. And I’m afraid of myself now. I’m sad and afraid and I’m self-loathing incarnate. I don’t want to be me at all, but I just can’t get away from myself. Though I, thank heavens, do want to live. It’s weird. I want to live, but I don’t want to be. But that’s impossible. I know it’s good (whatever that means, and for whom I’m still not feeling sure it’s for my own good) but it means, there is no way to get away from myself.

I won’t presume, of course, because that’s what made a whole other snafu in the first place, but there’s irony in that on the 14th I couldn’t understand him. Now I think I do. I’m pretty sure I feel the same way. Now that I’m pretty sure I’m in almost the exact same kind of place, I empathize with the feelings and the difficulty, and thus, I commend him for hanging on, especially as I have support he doesn’t.  The difference being, I had belonged to this reality, but now I don’t feel like I do. I don’t want to, but I have to. Because, there IS no other reality.

The waves of sadness I feel are largely general. This has been happening for a while, I suppose, I don’t know how long exactly but I actually noticed it myself around the 4th-5th of April. And I freaked myself out and it’s frustrating because then as now I’ve got no goddamn clue where my depression comes from. Sure, there’s the life stress and brain chemicals and all that, but if I’ve got clarity and support and I KNOW I’m irrationally sad, why can’t I just control it? It pisses me off because my sadness is like hunger. It lingers in your unconscious, then hits you and you realize “I’m sad” and then while with hunger, you can go eat and that goes away and you’re fine, there’s nothing that just makes that sadness go away.

Well, technically there is, and I know the science of how that works, but why does it? And why do I just get hit with this sadness anyway? I don’t want it. I don’t want it.

What’s bothering me specifically right now is, the medicine I’ve been prescribed, according to what the doctor said when I saw her, was that it was 95% likely to make me feel worse than I had been at the time I saw her. I thought I was pretty bad at that point, so I was afraid of feeling worse, not because I didn’t think I could get through it, but just that school-wise, the feeling worse would occur during finals time. And school is giving me huge stress right now. So, I figured since I had a decent handle on my depression for the most part, and no crying jags like she’d asked about, that I would begin to take the medicine after finals, so that way if I did get worse, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about school or anything else.

Except, yesterday I did have my first crying jag. Which was relieving on one level because I was worried by the loss of that ability. On the other hand, it’s a sign I’ve gotten worse. Now I worry that I should have started the medicine when the doctor prescribed it. Because I think the medicine amplifies your depressed feelings from the level you are right before you start. Which is worsening, I guess. So maybe if I’d taken the medicine earlier, crying jags would have been the worst of it. I don’t know what worse than that is, but I’m great at imagining and fearing even worse things. And now I dunno if I should start the meds now or not because now we’re even closer to finals and I just fucking hate this

I hate this

Everything is agony. “Agony” is perfect because if I recall it’s both anger and sadness. Love and life is agony and I’m not the type to do anything drastic— (I’m actually puzzled as to why I want to live, but I’m grateful for it, even though that, similarly to everything else that’s bothering me, is inexplicable)—but gods, it hurts

Speaking of, if any gods out there feel so inclined, I wouldn’t mind any of you playing around with time and re-creating/reincarnating me as my cousin’s cat. Their lives are not as complicated (not to invalidate you, cats) and he takes good care of them and pets are good for him.

Otherwise, please help me find a way to deal, be it either a return to a cyborg with an anesthetized heart, or angry amnesiac human. Or whatever a “better, fixed human” is. Just…at least help turn my feelings and thoughts off, please.


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