Ten years! Ten years of being a total basket case with serious anger issues. Ten years of beating myself up for things out of my control. Ten years of blaming myself for things out of my control. Thirteen years of doing what I love and still broke as fuck. Wanna know why? Glad you asked, “I am depression’s bitch”, that’s why. The more I address a problem, the worse it gets. The more trying becomes a factor to do and be something out of my normal realm, it falls apart or implodes on my sorry-ass self esteem then crumbles into tiny pieces and hides under the covers. All that hard work gone down the drain just so to dig it out and repeat it all over again. Depression sucks ass! I can not shake her at all. I wish I never knew her. I wish her seductive dark clouds didn’t remind me of Portland’s winters. I fucking love Portland’s winters, no one else really seems to or makes mention. Anyhoo…!
The puppet master, that is depression, always has an excuse to ruin your day, work spaces, sacred spaces, sex…BITCH! Let me tell you a few things about sex. I use to love it. I use to think about it all the time and with whom I wanted to do it with. I thought about celebrities tossing me about in some remote foreign island, but who hasn’t?! Anyway, when you are depressed, she reminds you of an EX who gives the greatest head known to woman while boiling your favorite blanket from childhood. Nice to see once a year but I would rather stay home and watch scary Christmas movies and get eaten out, ya know what I mean? Depression takes the joy out of most things you love then speaks poorly of you and your efforts publicly while blowing your EX on OF. MOVING ON!
I have been a slave to depression, for what seems like a lifetime, far too long. I am more than positive I have missed opportunities and the “right people” to connect to during this dark spell of black clouds and fuckery. If this is the way life gives you lessons I’d rather not be a participant. Depression turns lies into truths and verse visa spinning you about trusting nothing further than your immediate vicinity and that land mass is getting smaller. The trickery, the underlines, the bargaining, the soul crushing defeat, the sadness, the pain, the insanity, the shame, the impossible task of just being yourself, the looking at your past thinking you have wronged life in some way that maybe you deserve this punishment. She’s that bitch and so much more. Ten years of trying to let go of something I don’t remember but it’s hurting my progress in the present. Ten years of not knowing if I want to live or die. Ten years of continuing a struggle I’m not sure is mine to begin with. Ten years of incredible disconnect from love and self love. Ten years of trying to surrender and failing, miserably. Depression teaches you things you never wanted to know about yourself. I guess that’s positive, right?