It's April 5th, 2017. Almost two weeks since March 23, 2017, when this all began. It still hurts, but not as bad. Maybe it's just less of a shock. Maybe I've grown accustomed to it.
I will say there are better days. Yeah, I had two days in a row where I had to write something, but there are days where it doesn't hurt as much. The thoughts, though, still linger. Seems all I think about sometimes is getting them out of my head, distracting myself. It usually goes a little something like this:
This has been the cycle of my life for the past two weeks, especially the past two days. It feels awful even thinking about going to bed right now, so here I am, writing this.
One of the things that concerns me the most about my depression is how it really just came out of nowhere. Maybe it was a slow buildup of issues that caused it, but that disgusting feeling, the pit in my stomach, the smashing of a toy bus filled with dinosaurs into the wall? That just... happened. That isn't a good sign, considering the sudden, uncaused shift into depression is quite common among severe victims.
And great, as I'm looking up instances of this, I find out that, apparently, "The clinical definition of depression is a mood disorder that causes a persistent feeling of sadness and loss of interest for at least two weeks[.]" Well, shit. I had originally titled this post "What I Call A Depressive Funk: Why I Still Hope That This Is Temporary", but I think I might have to change that now.
So I just crossed the threshold for clinical depression. Well, I was going to make this a more positive post about how I'll probably get better, but that's looking less and less likely. Still, though, it's important to have hope, isn't it? After all, how can I recover if I don't think there's hope of recovery? Plus, I've been here before! I got out of it then, who says I won't get out of it now?
It's disheartening, though, because I had just gotten out of a long, long period of having terribly low self-esteem, and even now I'd say I have a fairly good self-image. I know I'm not perfect, and I have things I could work on, but overall I'm a decent person, and I have lots of people who love me. Nowadays, I know that there is no martyrdom in self-loathing, there is only crying softly in the bathroom with the fan on so nobody can hear. I thought I was a healthier person! I knew it!
Even so, it's hard to deny that no matter how much better I feel sometimes, it still hurts. So I might actually need more serious help.
But fuck, though, therapists are expensive. I don't want to pay out the asshole for something that I don't really need, So I'm still a little bit cautious. I guess if I don't get better by the beginning of May, which is when my family is moving to another state, I'll seriously consider getting professional help. Don't do what I'm doing, by the way; Letting this fester for a whole month is probably not the best thing I can do. I'm really only delaying because of the whole moving situation; If you think you're depressed, get help.
Heh, maybe if I keep writing, it'll count as therapy, and I'll be cured! Not too likely, though.