Depression is an asshole.

Sometimes, I forget I have depression.

You see, my meds work pretty well and I’m good at doing the other things that help. Exercise. Sleep. Decent nutrition. My job and family are good so they don’t lay additional stress on me.

So, most of the time, the depression is under control.

Then there are the times when it’s not. Like right now.

It’s February, which is the worst month of the year (don’t @ me about this, I will die on this weird hill of February hate). It’s dark and it keeps raining here. The kind of rain that means my lawn is so soggy that I soak my shoes every time I need to do something like take out the recycling.

Depression makes a very big deal out of the soaked shoes. I could let the recycling pile to the ceiling if I let my depression dictate the terms by which I walk on my soggy lawn.

I have some new projects happening in my family life and they require a lot of energy. None of of your beeswax what they are. I write the least about those whom I love the most and I do it on purpose. Today is no different. Trust me when I say what they need from me is taking all I have to give. But the problem is all of this is new so anxiety is coming out to play with depression and they’re assholes when they get together.

I’d love to hide from the depression and anxiety by escaping into a book but the those two assholes have provoked my ADHD to the point that I can’t even flee reality effectively. All I want to do is scroll social media for the dopamine fix of comments and likes but my social media is so geared toward politics that – you guessed it – it gets my depression going again.

I’ve got reinforcements to back me up here. I’m not in any danger of harming myself or anyone else. What I need most is the space to not be fully myself and also not have to explain it. So, this is the explanation. I have depression. It sucks. But I will better in my own time. If I don’t think I will, I promise I will ask for help.

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