How To: Be Depressed.

Step One: Drink a lot of something. Alcohol is preferred. If you’re not doing that, drink a lot of coffee, because it’s fucking hip. If you’re not doing that, drink a lot of tea, because you’ll fool yourself into thinking you’re bettering yourself and tea is even more hip than coffee. Forget to drink enough water.

Step Two: Make an account on every online dating application there is and become immediately discouraged when you swipe to the end of Tinder, or when no one matches with you on Her. OkCupid is a complete waste of time, but kill your days by answering the thousands of questions anyway, and making your profile seem effortlessly cool.

Step Three: Skip therapy or go to therapy, it’s all the same.

Step Four: Blame your parents. They’re the ones who decided to fornicate and make you, for fuck’s sake.

Step Five: Become hypersensitive while simultaneously becoming more aggressive with your friends. Make extremely self-deprecating remarks, but also go at them head-on with insulting sarcastic quips.

Step Six: Become erratic with your spending habits. Start buying lots of clothes. Sure, you actually do need new pants, but can you afford them? Not exactly. Stock up on coconut water so you feel like you’re doing something healthy, and anyway, your period is coming.

Step Seven: Sleep way more than is required. If you go to bed at 1am and wake up at 11, you’re doing it right. By sleeping more you will decrease the amount of energy you may have had even more, so by 1pm you’ll be back in bed. Sleep isn’t even fun, but you physically feel as though you can’t do anything else.

Step Eight: Hate everything about yourself.

Step Nine: Procrastinate about all the things you have to do in life.

Step Ten: Let is succumb you.

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I’ve Had Worse.

I can’t explain anything anymore. My words are incongruent and incohesive, my mind is an anxious, dying cluster-fuck of depressive, intrusive thoughts.

I wake up at noon. I pull on a pair of pants that, mind you, are not clean. I sign the back of a check. It’s raining outside and I worry that my car will do that stupid thing when it rains, where it stalls and acts like it’s going to break down but somehow it doesn’t. I drive to the bank. The man in line behind me surprises me with his presence. I’m glad he can only see the back of me. I hate the bank. I’m not enough of an adult to be at a bank. I deposit the check.

It’s raining even harder when I walk out. I drive down Panorama Trail and have to stop and wait for a mail truck, while part of me wishes someone would slam into me at 60mph and destroy me, but that won’t happen. I spend $16 on hair dye because my priorities are screwed.

At home, I try to smoke a cigarette in the garage, but it’s so stuffy and dank in there that after three drags I give up. I go inside, fall asleep on the couch for an hour. Wake up to people talking, so I go upstairs. All I want to do is sleep. That’s all I feel capable of at this point. Somehow, I don’t. I fuck around on the internet all day. I masturbate without an ounce of satisfaction. It’s a miracle I don’t cry after coming, honestly.

I smoke more cigarettes. I feel anxious. My face feels greasy. I listen to Radiohead. I wish to feel something other than misery. I wish for someone to genuinely give a fuck, but I also am happy, in a sense, I’m alone, because I don’t want to bring anyone else down. I eat and feel disgusting about it. I consider going for a walk, but I don’t like the dark.

I maintain an internet presence to cover up the fact that I’m suicidal.

All of my desires are impure and vile. They’re full of self-hate and sabotage. All of my wishes are only wishes to destroy myself, to just waste myself for once and for all. My thoughts are barely strung together. I want to cry but I can’t, which is worse than actually crying. I feel overwhelmed by the empty space around me, and by the concept of time. I want to see my organs spilling out of my abdomen. I want my brain to be taken out of my skull and probed. Just tell me what’s so wrong with me. I’m doing something wrong, clearly. I’m all wrong. I’m all wrong.

A Half-Assed Update

Mostly to let you all know I haven’t thrown myself off a bridge (yet).

  1. Cried nearly every day this week.
  2. I haven’t felt this low about myself, this completely shitty about myself, in my entire life, and it sucks.
  3. I had a terrible, awful meeting with the woman who deals with my meds. Felt entirely unheard and not cared for at all.
  4. Sobbed profusely and erratically during therapy on Thursday.
  5. I did receive a refund check for the gas tank in my car, so at least now I can pay off my credit card debt.
  6. Where the fuck did this month go?
  7. Being a lesbian is not fun.
  8. I have no energy anymore and I can’t even pull myself out of bed in the mornings, literally.
  9. I feel like everyone around me is changing for the better and I’m getting so much worse.
  10. Fuck these medications.

Not That.

I’m listening to “Love/Paranoia” by Tame Impala on repeat, drinking my second cup of, now cold, chamomile tea. My best friend sends me a picture of herself and I feel my eyes well up momentarily because her collarbones are visible and mine are not, her lips are full and mine are not, her skin is clear and mine are not, her eyes are pretty and mine are not, I am not any of that, I don’t have any of that. Another cigarette won’t make me feel any better but I want one anyway. My room is too hot. I don’t know how I’m going to fall asleep tonight–not without struggle, that’s for sure. Even the days that are okay aren’t really okay, you know? I’m so tired of being inside my own head, because it’s not a fun place to be. I need a new phone. I need a car that isn’t a piece of shit. I need new shoes but I can’t any in my size because I was “blessed” with abnormally large feet. It’s even hard for me to find men’s shoes. I just want a pair of oxfords, for fuck’s sake. Something is wrong with my right hip. I’m not that old yet. I would rate my depression at a 7 out of 10 right now, and my anxiety maybe a 5. A wavering 5. I want to win the lottery. I want to be discovered. Or shot dead. There’s so much of that happening, but not to me, because I’m not that lucky.

Current Jams XIII

  1. “The Less I Know The Better” – Tame Impala. I mean it when I say I’ve had this song on repeat all month. I’ve been a fan of Tame Impala for a while now, and I’ve always enjoyed the song, but once I watched the video, the lyrics and the visuals really struck me and I’ve become obsessed. It’s a weirdly relatable song even if you have never been in the exact situation of someone else with the girl you (think) love. This catchy tune will continue to be on my playlist for some time. Favorite lyric: “I was doing fine without you / ‘Til I saw your face, now I can’t erase / Giving in to all his bullshit/ Is this what you want, is this who you are? / I was doing fine without you / ‘Til I saw your eyes turn away from mine.”
  2. “Sunshine” – Keane. Oh, Keane…what more can I say about you? I really wish they were currently working on music (this hiatus has lasted long enough!) but at least I have all of their old albums to trek through. This song is a lovely, soft melody off their debut album which reminds me of a grey spring morning. Favorite lyric: “I hold you in cupped hands / And shield you from a storm / Where only some dumb idiot would let you go.”
  3. “Love/Paranoia” – Tame Impala. I love the brutal honesty in Tame Impala’s songs, particularly this one, which flows in a very introspective way. Favorite lyric: “Do you remember the time we were / The time we were by the ocean / I didn’t care if it was day or night / The world was right where I wanted.”
  4. “Fineshrine” – Purity Ring. This mixture of electronica and pop is not a sound I often gravitate toward, but this song has caught me. It’s repetitious, sure, but the sound reminiscent of Crystal Castles mixed with Grimes has an appeal to it. Favorite lyric: “Get a little closer, let fold / Cut open my sternum, and pull / My little ribs around you / The lungs of me be crowns over you.”
  5. “A Day In The Life” – The Beatles. I don’t know why just now I’m realizing how much I actually enjoy The Beatles, but here we are. Most of you have probably already heard this song. It speaks for summer, I think. Favorite lyric: “I saw the photograph / He blew his mind out in a car; / He didn’t notice that the lights had changed.”
  6. “High and Dry” – Radiohead. This is one of my all-time favorite songs by Radiohead and lately it’s really had a hold on me. I wish I knew what it meant, but there’s that mystery the band likes to leave behind. Although Thom Yorke hates this song, I certainly love it to bits. Favorite lyric: “You’d kill yourself for recognition,
    kill yourself to never ever stop / You broke another mirror, you’re turning into something you are not.”
  7. “Ceremonial (Burst Into Stars)” – Blaqk Audio. Blaqk Audio’s newest album, which I was finally able to download, has really impressed me, and also made realize how much I’ve missed them. Although many songs have caught my attention, this one has really grabbed me, with its melancholy yet slightly optimistic vibe. Favorite lyric: “Reel the night, only half a life / A faded pulse in you, I’m here fading too / You and I watched the daylight die with sadness in our hearts, / You smile, like I loved you.”
  8. “Memories” – Lewis Del Mar. I don’t know if this song is meant to be so relatable to another 22 year old, but it is. I really enjoy the waves of sound, from strong to slight, that this song perpetrates. Favorite lyric: “It was shining on the day / We climbed into the oak / You offered me a smoke / What else do you say / When you’re only twenty two, nothing to do all day.”

What have you been listening to?

The Plague of Self-Criticism

I’ve probably said this more than one: I really struggle with confidence. A couple years ago I was two sizes smaller than I am now. I ate healthy and did pretty hardcore workouts four times a week. I was mentally stable and emotionally well, hence my ability to do such things. When my medication (at the time) stopped working and my emotional well-being plummeted, I gave up on all of that, and gradually I gained back the 70+ pounds I had lost. That alone has taken a huge toll on my body image. I feel like a failure because I let it happen, and I feel like a failure for not making the changes I need to. Being constantly depressed doesn’t make me feel motivated to do anything about it. Although I want to be healthier and look better, I don’t have the drive I once did to achieve these things.

Although I feel grotesque in terms of my body–too much stomach fat, no hips, no ass, large all around, really, double chin–it’s gone beyond body issues and for the past couple months I’ve grown to really hate my face, which was never a big issue before. My face is too round. I wish I had a more angular bone structure and higher cheekbones. My nose is too big, my eyes are too small. My face is riddled with acne and horrible red scars (thanks, Lithium). Everything seems disproportionate to me, and I feel ugly.

To compensate for my body I wear ill-fitting clothes. I wear shirts that hang off me because I don’t want anyone to see the outline of my torso, or rather, my stomach fat. I won’t wear tank tops because I hate my arms. I won’t wear shorts because I hate my legs. I don’t feel confident in anything I wear, and I look at my friends and I feel envious, because their bodies are nicer than mine without them even trying and they can pull off outfits and look stylish and put together whereas I cannot.

To compensate for my face, I wear makeup. I used to feel confident going out without makeup, but because of the wonderful skin-destroying effect of Lithium, now I don’t. Just looking at my bare skin makes me feel disgusted, and there’s nothing I can do about that aspect as long as I’m on the medication. So I try to cover it up. I try to make my eyes look bigger, and I carve out fake cheekbones. But I still feel disgusting.

There is no lesson to be learned in this post. It’s just another bundle of problems that I have no idea what to do with.

Email to Psychiatrist II

Long time, no speak. Or see.

I am emailing you tonight because…well, there’s not a simple reason, I suppose. To start, my new therapist is fine, I suppose. She obviously doesn’t really compare to my relationship with you since we have four years of that and you know me very well, and you know I like to put up fights and you tend to deal with my bullshit pretty well. I actually skipped my last appointment with her. Most of it had to do with scheduling, but I also just felt no desire to go. The other woman, the one who deals with my medications, I have only seen once and she has failed to fill out my prescriptions for Latuda and Klonopin so I have been kind of floundering. I called to see what was up the other day but the receptionist never got back to me like she said she would. But I see this woman on Wednesday, so let’s hope I get my meds.

I was actually doing okay for a couple weeks, and then Monday I woke up and immediately was hit over the head with all these stressors (mostly expenses I don’t have the money for), so that was a shitty start to my day. Tuesday was worse. I got stuck in traffic on my way home from work (which I am quitting, even though I have no backup plan. Whatever.), for 45 minutes, and I was already in a rough mood so I started to cry, and when I got home I cried a lot more.
The rest of the week I have been exceptionally anxious. I’m having those feelings of derealization and it’s so unpleasant, scary, and uncomfortable…I do not know what to do. I feel very alone in this, and I feel as though something is deeply wrong with me. I have been passively suicidal, because, well, I’d rather die than feel insane.
What a cheery email.
– Zara