I had another unproductive weekend – the kind where it’s a struggle to do anything except read (ah, reading, my depression default). Now, Sunday night, I’m forcing myself to write this for Monday as a last-minute sop towards accomplishing something.
Even knowing that, yes, writing something is a sort of win against the depression, it still feels like a cop-out post, and the need to have a sort-of win is frustrating.
So I’m trying to use that frustration. To channel the energy of it, I guess, and see if I can get more than this done. Because I know if I leave the remaining posts to do during the work week, I’ll be stressed and pressed for time, and that will make me want to escape and read even more. If I write all of them now, however, it’ll push the depression back a bit, and it might help me come out of it faster this time.
I really wish there was a pill or a surgery that just made this stop. That would let me function like a normal adult. But there isn’t. There are medications and actions that help (or help some) but no cure. So we play the hand we’re dealt.
To anyone else out there struggling with this, hugs. You’re not alone.