I’ll just get that out there.
I have depression and anxiety, and I have some good and some really, really bad days.
I decided to start this blog to share those days with y’all. To let those with similar problems know they’re not alone, and to let those without the problems understand what it’s like to have the problems.
Today is not one of those really, really bad days, but it’s not a good day, either.
Today is a day where I’ve had to repeatedly tell myself my weekly goal: make it through the week without killing myself. Not that I’m what I’d consider suicidal at the moment. It’s more of a fleeting thought, something that (for some reason) makes me feel better to contemplate.
Today is a day when my cat’s behavior mimics mine – or perhaps I mimic his. Either way.
My cat George has a bad habit. He scratches his ears, claws fully engaged, and then he yeowls at the top of his lungs because someone, SOMEONE, is sticking their claws in his ears. While he’s picking at his ears, he’s complaining. He acts like he’s having some great injustice visited upon him, some sort of torture that he never signed up for. He acts like he doesn’t know he’s the one doing it to himself.
And that’s how I feel today.
I feel like my brain keeps poking me, claws out, telling me that I’m not successful enough, that other people are more successful than me, that I’ll never be successful. Those claws sink in pretty deep, and they keep scratching that spot in my brain that tells me that it’s silly to keep working towards my goals, and it’s pointless, and I should probably just give up.
For now, I’m fighting it. I’m doing constructive things, like exercising and starting this new blog. I’m clearing up the paperwork on my desk, running errands, trying to plan things I need to do over the next couple of weeks.
But I’m also feeling those claws in my brain. And they suck.