I’m being avoidant. I can feel it. There are always those small little tells, the little things I do when I’m becoming avoidant, that I can either pick up on and act on, or continue to ignore.
Avoiding people, avoiding meaningful conversation, avoiding completing tasks that need completing, avoiding responsibilities…it all just grows on itself and compounds.
Things get a little bit messier, less organized, the laundry doesn’t get folded quickly enough, the phone calls don’t get made….
Depression.
Fuck.
I thought I had it down and sleeping. But I was wrong. Because here we are.
And why not?
Why not.
I can feel myself giving it. Letting it get bigger and stronger. Overtaking me whether I allow it to or not.
The pills (prescription) don’t make it smaller, the drinks only encourage its growth, avoidance only feeds it further.
It’s in these stupid moments that I hear my therapists voice telling me exactly what to do. In this case, she’d tell me to do opposite action, or whatever it’s called.
Basically, don’t listen to myself. My thoughts are fucking liars, get shit done anyway.
Yes, it’s hard. Welcome to the world of fucking depression. Shit gets hard sometimes.
But doing it anyway?
Yeah. I’m not the best at it yet.
But I don’t want to keep burying myself.
I want to get back up and fight. I want to fuck shit up and laugh in the face of my demons, because they don’t get to make choices for me.
I need to do better because I can do better.
I’m not going to get pulled down to where I know things can go. I’m not doing it. Not this time.
So I’ll put on some fucking pants and leave the house and….pretend to be the functioning member of society that I’ve so wonderfully convinced everybody that I am.
Not today, depression. It’s not your time to shine.