should be easy enough
to know a heartache in disguise
I'm in a funk. It's official. You know how the DSM describes depression as episodic? Well it's true. And I think I'm in an episode.
Yes, I'm aware that self-diagnosis is a dangerous thing. Like a bajillion other people in this country, I've been officially diagnosed as mildly depressed, and I take a very miniscule amount of an anti-depressant. But I'm not paranoid about it or anything. I mean. I'm pretty self-aware, but not to the point of freaking out over every sad mood. In fact, I think I've been in denial about the whole thing. Under control, right? Take the damn pill every morning and all is well. Not so much. Faking it for you...not that you asked me to or anything. And faking it for me, but I haven't been convincing myself very well lately, and that only exacerbates the funky-ness of my funk.
I'm a little relieved to just come to terms with it. Because it's like a never-ending battle between how I think I should be and how I actually am. For example, I like to think that I'm a pretty driven, goal-oriented person. But when I come home and waste 4 hours doing nothing but piddling around and thinking about the drama that I have no control over anyway, I get more and more fed up with myself for not doing anything productive. That last part is what puts me in a funk, because it's not how I am normally. Usually, I'm perfectly capable of being motivated and getting stuff done. So if I just admit that sometimes I'm not capable of being sufficiently motivated...that sometimes the funk weighs me down...maybe I can be less hard on myself, feel better, and perhaps become productive again.
Easier said than done.
Maybe it's a seasonal thing. Blame it on the time of year.
I make light of it by calling it funk and talking about it like it's normal everyday conversation material, but really it scares me. Being unmotivated scares me. And so does being unable to at least be content with day to day life.
I'm happier when I'm around people. On the surface, at least. I guess that's what's so tempting about going home. In the end, going home so much has made it harder to be here. I need to do a better job of just being where I am. Seems like my brain is always somewhere else. I haven't doodled in my binders this much since high school.
A dear brother of mine told me that I'm not a good role model. I never signed up to be anybody's role model. I say...that's what you get for knowing me so well. Maybe you should back off. From far away, I'd be a damn good role model.
I was a little feisty tonight for the ballet/jazz 1 class. They kept looking at me like, "where did Miss Jenny go?" ...she left. Get your asses into gear, little ones. We have a performance coming up! Seriously. I just needed to lay down the law a little so we could get some work done. Maybe I should use the same approach with myself...
Get your ass into gear, Miss Jenny. You've got work to do. And a perfectly wonderful life to enjoy.
I'm in a funk. It's official. You know how the DSM describes depression as episodic? Well it's true. And I think I'm in an episode.
Yes, I'm aware that self-diagnosis is a dangerous thing. Like a bajillion other people in this country, I've been officially diagnosed as mildly depressed, and I take a very miniscule amount of an anti-depressant. But I'm not paranoid about it or anything. I mean. I'm pretty self-aware, but not to the point of freaking out over every sad mood. In fact, I think I've been in denial about the whole thing. Under control, right? Take the damn pill every morning and all is well. Not so much. Faking it for you...not that you asked me to or anything. And faking it for me, but I haven't been convincing myself very well lately, and that only exacerbates the funky-ness of my funk.
I'm a little relieved to just come to terms with it. Because it's like a never-ending battle between how I think I should be and how I actually am. For example, I like to think that I'm a pretty driven, goal-oriented person. But when I come home and waste 4 hours doing nothing but piddling around and thinking about the drama that I have no control over anyway, I get more and more fed up with myself for not doing anything productive. That last part is what puts me in a funk, because it's not how I am normally. Usually, I'm perfectly capable of being motivated and getting stuff done. So if I just admit that sometimes I'm not capable of being sufficiently motivated...that sometimes the funk weighs me down...maybe I can be less hard on myself, feel better, and perhaps become productive again.
Easier said than done.
Maybe it's a seasonal thing. Blame it on the time of year.
I make light of it by calling it funk and talking about it like it's normal everyday conversation material, but really it scares me. Being unmotivated scares me. And so does being unable to at least be content with day to day life.
I'm happier when I'm around people. On the surface, at least. I guess that's what's so tempting about going home. In the end, going home so much has made it harder to be here. I need to do a better job of just being where I am. Seems like my brain is always somewhere else. I haven't doodled in my binders this much since high school.
A dear brother of mine told me that I'm not a good role model. I never signed up to be anybody's role model. I say...that's what you get for knowing me so well. Maybe you should back off. From far away, I'd be a damn good role model.
I was a little feisty tonight for the ballet/jazz 1 class. They kept looking at me like, "where did Miss Jenny go?" ...she left. Get your asses into gear, little ones. We have a performance coming up! Seriously. I just needed to lay down the law a little so we could get some work done. Maybe I should use the same approach with myself...
Get your ass into gear, Miss Jenny. You've got work to do. And a perfectly wonderful life to enjoy.