As I'm sure some of you may have noticed, I haven't been around all that much lately. I didn't intentionally abandon the internet, but every time I started to write about what was going on, I kept hearing that voice telling me that no one would really care. My life is pretty good, it kept saying. My "problems" aren't nearly as bad as some of the other people's problems. Do you want to be that person who does nothing but complain?
I really hate that voice. Long story short, my depression decided to tighten its grip on me for the last couple of months, and it made getting words on a page very difficult. Depression, for me, doesn't just tell me that no one cares about what I write - it tells me that people will actively be angry or annoyed if I put my problems out into the world, or try to make them read the crap I put together (because of course it's crap, it's coming from me). It also keeps me from telling the people around me, the people who care about me, what's going on, because I'm not supposed to be a burden. My job is to be the one that makes everyone happy - telling them that I'm not OK is not going to make them happy, which means I fail at my job.
Have I mentioned that depression is a bastard? Because seriously. At any rate, I'm not sure what's caused it to loosen its grip a little - it may have been spending a weekend with good friends (and a stop to my favorite tea shop), as well as just spending time with my husband. Either way, the words are coming a little easier now, so I should probably try to get as many of them down as I can before the depression catches up with me again.
And before you ask, I'm making an appointment with my doctor to get a referral to a psychiatrist. While my therapist has been great, I feel like we really aren't going anywhere anymore, and I might need to talk to someone with a little more background on handling the medications, and seeing if that needs to be changed. I'm trying to take care of myself (finally), it's just going to take some time.