Lay Down And Die? Hell No. The Start Button

Where do you start with this kind of thing?

Except a disclaimer - I'm not a doctor. I have no intention of being one. Everything I write here and heretofore is my experience. That's all. Not intended to treat or diagnose a goddamn thing.

Well, I guess the title's a good place.

Lay down and die. The daily question. 

For me, anyway.

Hell no.

The daily answer. 

Again, for me. 

I'm not going to get into the ins and outs of what can or can't be done for depression. Or whether blah blah blah is a cure. I don't know. All I know is, I have major depression with a fun side slice of anxiety. All I know is I try, and continue to try, all of the things. My doc gives me all kinds of cool shit to read. From having a normal sleep schedule to the benefits of fish oil and exercise. 

In all honesty I get more and more weary of trying things. I feel like the high, of exercise, for example, and then the let down when I, despite what I do, come home night after night and sit on my couch and cry. About everything, but, normally about nothing. I literally have no reason. There is no thing occupying my brains, no problem I'm mulling over or hurtful situation. I just feel hopeless. And it's difficult for me to go through these transitions where everything's on the right path, I'm actually eating three squares (and snacks), taking walks, doing yoga, etc. And then it still comes, it still happens. And it's no less intense than the last time, or time before that. It's hard for me to get my hopes up about ever feeling *GOOD* for an extended amount of time. I rather try and find this happy middle ground. I don't feel like shit, but, I don't much feel good either. 

I know the biggest change has been realizing it. Acceptance. Realizing that I have this thing that I can't control. I think some people can. I think it's possible some people can counter-act what their brain stem is malfunctioning about with diet and exercise. But, I've never been able to. And to acknowledge that was the most liberating moment of my life. That and to basically tell anyone who says my experience is invalid (ie "you're not trying hard enough") can fuck themselves. I know what I've done, and I know where I've been. I'm not like all the other attention seeking whores in your life that're making excuses. All I know is for long periods of time here and there I want to die. For no particular reason. It's never because life's bad or even when I'm in the pit. It just is. And I don't mince words when it comes to ending my life. And for some reason I have this grace and handful of loving people that may or may not understand, either way, they've been here for me. Like, literally just stay around me 24/7 because I'm legit terrified I'm going to off myself. I can be a pain in the ass, but I have an amazing support system. And I hope everyone who needs that does. Sometimes I wish I could be that for even random strangers. 

I hate thinking of it as an "illness." My therapist lady has never treated me that way. She's always just treats me like a human being who experiences the world differently. And that's where I like to see myself. I just process the things around me a bit differently, and sometimes it's hard for me to get a handle on it. Meeting and experiencing that sort of environment from a professional made me believe for the first time in my life that I could fight. That I don't have to be any specific thing or way. That I could be me. And the best part? Every single facet is okay. How I feel is okay, even if it's completely off the reservation. What I think is okay, even if it's highly appropriate.