Have you ever been talented at something, but your talent is paralyzed by your stupid brain?
Paralyzed by my own inability to succeed. I am afraid of success. I am afraid of taking on too much responsibility. I am afraid of existence. Is it the depression that makes me afraid? Or am I depressed because of my fears?
Or am I depressed because I think about it too much?
Do “normal” people think about things like this? I’ve often wondered what it sounds like in other people’s heads. Do they berate themselves for minor failures? Do they constantly analyze the world around them? Or is it quiet, like when my brain is soaked in the appropriate amounts of Prozac?
It’s wearing off. My doc told me to increase the dosage after 2 weeks. Two weeks is tomorrow, so I’m increasing it today. I couldn’t get out of bed this morning. I wanted to stay there forever. The only thing keeping me from it was the fact that I have no A/C in my house, and it’s in the 90s right now. Sitting around sweating and hating my stupid brain for this stupid depression did not sound like a good way to spend my day. So I’m sitting at work basking in the A/C and hating my stupid brain for this depression.
Whenever I get depressed, I think about all the ways in which I’ve failed myself. I think about how I dreamed of being a famous singer who wrote beautiful poetic songs that helped me manage the constant psychic pain that I experience. But I’m almost 30 now, and I’m stuck in a 9 to 5 in a shit economy with no solution in sight. AND I never practice and rarely write songs because every time I sit down at the piano, I am flooded with negative, intrusive (oh that word does not even begin to encompass the feeling), self-berating, self-loathing thoughts. You can’t do it you can’t do it. You should just give up. So I never practice and I never get better and I never complete a song, which means I never escape the vicious cycle that is my brain.
I know I know. I should be happy I have a job. I should be happy I have a husband who loves me. And in a sense, I am thankful. But I always feel like I am letting myself down. Selling myself short because I am sitting in this damn cubicle day after day going completely insane. I’ve settled for the easy way out again. No matter what I always seem to go for the safe option. I took a risk in 2005 by leaving work to go back to school to attempt to get out of this cycle, but here I am all over again, and now the economy is screwed. Leaving me with no real choices at all.
The other day, I said something about people with mental illness at work, and my cube-mate said, “The mentally ill just want a quick fix, a magic pill to make it go away.”
I wanted to punch him in the face. If I had chronic nerve pain from, let’s say, diabetes, no one would judge me for taking painkillers to make it go away. So fuck you and your ignorance.
I am in pain. I need some serious fucking painkillers.