"taken back by you" and The Noonday Demon
These last few days have been insanely lazy, like my body is trying to recoup from being ill--but without me registering being sick.
I'm writing more, at least, if not on L&W. Last night I stayed up until dawn writing a short story for holidaysmut that is again partially alice_montrose's fault. I swear she lives on the plotbunny version of a Hellmouth (of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fame), because whenever I talk to her, new plotbunnies come crawling out through the computer to nom on my brain.
...Yeah, I think it's pretty cool too. ^_^
I should probably write a paper today, and get at least some of the Monday or Wednesday readings done. I'd prefer reading the vampire stories over The Royal Screwing-Over of King Arthur that we've been assigned for this week...but what can you do?
In other news, ever since I heard Dr. Winner's talk about depression last week, I've wanted to read The Noonday Demon by Andrew Solomon. Dr. Winner read a quote from it that I've since used to explain things to my older sister a bit.
Essentially, Solomon says depression and the anxiety that often comes with it are stupid, and no one knows that more than the person with depression who suddenly cannot do the mundane things they've done a million times before and know are harmless, even good for them. The quote was about a time Solomon couldn't get out of his dorm room bed to go take a shower because of he was suddenly, irrationally afraid to do so. He knew even then it was irrational. Nevertheless, talking himself through every step didn't make the prospect of getting up less daunting. Nothing he did or told himself could get him out of his bed and into that shower.
And that's why depression is stupid. Because even as you know, If I don't put on my shoes and go to class my grade will drop to a D, you still can't pick up those shoes. It's crazy. It's frustratingly, deceptively, stupidly simple. Yet for many people with depression, that doesn't matter. Stupid or not, the shoes remain across the room and the class goes on without you, and the D makes your chest tighten, but you still can't fucking get out of bed.
I'm writing more, at least, if not on L&W. Last night I stayed up until dawn writing a short story for holidaysmut that is again partially alice_montrose's fault. I swear she lives on the plotbunny version of a Hellmouth (of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fame), because whenever I talk to her, new plotbunnies come crawling out through the computer to nom on my brain.
...Yeah, I think it's pretty cool too. ^_^
I should probably write a paper today, and get at least some of the Monday or Wednesday readings done. I'd prefer reading the vampire stories over The Royal Screwing-Over of King Arthur that we've been assigned for this week...but what can you do?
In other news, ever since I heard Dr. Winner's talk about depression last week, I've wanted to read The Noonday Demon by Andrew Solomon. Dr. Winner read a quote from it that I've since used to explain things to my older sister a bit.
Essentially, Solomon says depression and the anxiety that often comes with it are stupid, and no one knows that more than the person with depression who suddenly cannot do the mundane things they've done a million times before and know are harmless, even good for them. The quote was about a time Solomon couldn't get out of his dorm room bed to go take a shower because of he was suddenly, irrationally afraid to do so. He knew even then it was irrational. Nevertheless, talking himself through every step didn't make the prospect of getting up less daunting. Nothing he did or told himself could get him out of his bed and into that shower.
And that's why depression is stupid. Because even as you know, If I don't put on my shoes and go to class my grade will drop to a D, you still can't pick up those shoes. It's crazy. It's frustratingly, deceptively, stupidly simple. Yet for many people with depression, that doesn't matter. Stupid or not, the shoes remain across the room and the class goes on without you, and the D makes your chest tighten, but you still can't fucking get out of bed.