On the days my depression is bad, I clean the house to feel safe. For others to be ok with me even when I’m not okay. For others to not think I’m lazy or selfish on the days when I need to rest the most. I can’t rest whilst feeling unsafe. I can’t rest in my resistance towards myself. My self-hate for being this way. If I was a phone I’d throw myself against the wall. Break myself for being broken. Standing out is the worst feeling ever and depression is like a car wreck on a super highway. It took 6 suicide attempts for me to begrudgingly learn to feel my feelings. Out of the 12 years, I’ve not actively fought myself for 4. By not fighting I mean the bare minimum of accepting that the depression is out of my control.
But I still fight myself by trying to redeem myself. By trying to grill my feelings to see if there’s any possibility I could do anything to make it less crippling. Anything I can do to fix it. I still find it nearly impossible to just accept my feelings unconditionally, without first trying to make them qualify the level of disability I feel.
Give me a reason, anything, as to why I can’t make it to my therapy session for the 4th week in a row. She’s going to be so disappointed in me. This whole week is going to be a self-loathing for not having gone. Exhibit 13 in the case against Mulki and why she’s a write-off.