Oh man...
I had a depression attack last night like I used to get way back when. I hate those cause they are almost completely elusive to me, I dont even know that Im depressed till its too late.
My thinking is all jumbled when Im like that. I scan through each thought, looking for something to brighten my dampened spirits, but anything that I can think about that would do so, eventually is swallowed by my own fucking perpetual pessimism.
Ill doubt anything. My job. Ever recovering from this illness thats been plauging me for a year. My girl. Most of all, my elusive friends. And definately my family.
Regular attacks (as Im coming to call them) are at least fendible. Ive learned to cope with those in stride and take them for what they are. My strength. Its through those I come to understand what truly matters to me, and what Im just stretching beyond what I have too.
My own admissions as of late have been faltering. For the past two weeks, I havent been a pot head, and I havent even taken my meds, so knowing that, having no crutch, I prepare myself to intercept such attacks and try and straighten my thought process out. The gloom that hangs over me, that fucking melancholy gun shot thats ever aimed for my head, its all something I can prepare for.
But not like last night, thats so fucking impossible. After actually realizing the attack last night, I tried to fend it off, tried to think straight and my brain, as hard as it tried to work with me, ended in the same black pit. Festering.
Maybe I miss to much of my past. Somethings I do think about more often these days, now that Ive been reading journals, and talking to old friends, its all kinda reminiscent of something and someone that I used to be. I guess I just dont understand why I long to be that person again. The person that I came to loathe and hate with all my heart.
Me.
My thinking is all jumbled when Im like that. I scan through each thought, looking for something to brighten my dampened spirits, but anything that I can think about that would do so, eventually is swallowed by my own fucking perpetual pessimism.
Ill doubt anything. My job. Ever recovering from this illness thats been plauging me for a year. My girl. Most of all, my elusive friends. And definately my family.
Regular attacks (as Im coming to call them) are at least fendible. Ive learned to cope with those in stride and take them for what they are. My strength. Its through those I come to understand what truly matters to me, and what Im just stretching beyond what I have too.
My own admissions as of late have been faltering. For the past two weeks, I havent been a pot head, and I havent even taken my meds, so knowing that, having no crutch, I prepare myself to intercept such attacks and try and straighten my thought process out. The gloom that hangs over me, that fucking melancholy gun shot thats ever aimed for my head, its all something I can prepare for.
But not like last night, thats so fucking impossible. After actually realizing the attack last night, I tried to fend it off, tried to think straight and my brain, as hard as it tried to work with me, ended in the same black pit. Festering.
Maybe I miss to much of my past. Somethings I do think about more often these days, now that Ive been reading journals, and talking to old friends, its all kinda reminiscent of something and someone that I used to be. I guess I just dont understand why I long to be that person again. The person that I came to loathe and hate with all my heart.
Me.