Escape? Fantasy? Does it matter?
Good news! Watching "The Day Of The Doctor" - twice, once my myself for the initial airing and again with Adam for the second airing - did give emotional promise. I was cheered up and excited. I never care what critics say. It is a fun, gorgeous, hilarious, heartbreaking, powerful, insane, wild, amazing program, and the Doctor himself is wonderful. This episode had all those elements. I was very, very pleased, especially with the varied one-liners between Smith, Tennant, and Hurt. The monsters could have been better. The "final fate" of Gallifrey pleased me. The concept thought up by the three Doctors at the climax was fantastic. I applauded.
*
Less Good News: Obviously, my clinical depression has not broken, save for a few bursts of laughter and crying. Last night, my Soulmate Best Friend held me close and told me that it was okay to not be okay. That everything was okay. I need to keep believing that. I need to stop convincing myself that "Nothing matters, nothing matters, it's just a thing, it's just a thing, not even an emotion, why should I care, is this even worth it." I am not alone. This is so common that I have made this post public so others can join in on the discussion. I don't know why it happened, but I marked it on my calender because that us important. I write. I write and I write. I ask questions. I cry in my dreams. I might go to my parents like this. They seem to understand well enough. I just need to tell them I must eat more, even if it is salad for days knowing them.
I still didn't moisturize my face. It itches. I need to have a shower anyway. But I did wake up well, take my medicine, get dressed spritely, nibble foods throughout the day. I am too skinny for this. B, my darling, I will keep my promise. We can go together. My OCD is like fireants, and I keep rubbing my arms, my torso, my legs. I am doing everything I can. I can.
I can do all of this. Even if this is trying to destroy my amygdala. I am a fighter.
I love you all. I wish I knew what else to say...
Orange juice.
*
Less Good News: Obviously, my clinical depression has not broken, save for a few bursts of laughter and crying. Last night, my Soulmate Best Friend held me close and told me that it was okay to not be okay. That everything was okay. I need to keep believing that. I need to stop convincing myself that "Nothing matters, nothing matters, it's just a thing, it's just a thing, not even an emotion, why should I care, is this even worth it." I am not alone. This is so common that I have made this post public so others can join in on the discussion. I don't know why it happened, but I marked it on my calender because that us important. I write. I write and I write. I ask questions. I cry in my dreams. I might go to my parents like this. They seem to understand well enough. I just need to tell them I must eat more, even if it is salad for days knowing them.
I still didn't moisturize my face. It itches. I need to have a shower anyway. But I did wake up well, take my medicine, get dressed spritely, nibble foods throughout the day. I am too skinny for this. B, my darling, I will keep my promise. We can go together. My OCD is like fireants, and I keep rubbing my arms, my torso, my legs. I am doing everything I can. I can.
I can do all of this. Even if this is trying to destroy my amygdala. I am a fighter.
I love you all. I wish I knew what else to say...
Orange juice.