a day in the life of depression.

You feel like a fat piece of shit I guess. When it’s really bad for me it makes my limbs feel heavy and it hurts to move. Dog walking is a good job for the sullen. The dogs are nice to me; I let them drag me down the sidewalk.

Drugs and alcohol help so long as you have no interest in getting down to the root of the problem. The drugs bide the time between how you feel now and how you hope to feel in the future. If you can stand it, though, it’s better to feel the feelings and grieve. Otherwise you just grieve the same things over and over, stuff them down again and nothing ever changes.

Feeling blue all the time is a moral failing, I think, because it takes so much energy to be kind when you feel like human garbage. And always, always, you’ve got to try your hardest to be kind. For example, one bad thing about walking dogs is that animals bring out the best in others. Strangers smile at me and want to talk. It takes everything I have to smile back, and look, I was saving that smile for myself. That was mine and you took it and now I feel deflated and resentful. A person all out of fucks to give is dangerous. They snap. So that’s what I mean when I say that figuring out how to be happy is a moral imperative and to not try is derelict. Think of your parents, what they wanted you to be, and now look at how you’re acting.

Some days it really seems like the dogs can tell and they care. They look at me with concern without asking what’s wrong. Depressed people always answer this question roughly the same. Something like, “Oh, nothing in particular,” or “It’s everything and nothing,” but I’ve actually never found that to be true. You say there’s nothing specifically wrong because to go on about what’s really bothering you is impolite and embarrassing. But I can tell you exactly what’s wrong: I want to be a teacher and instead I’m a dog walker. I should be writing more. I’m broke. I miss my old friends. I’m trapped in a body I hate. I’m in love with the guy I’m dating, and to quote Jerry Maguire: “He sure does like me a lot.” That’s what’s wrong. Make even half of those things right and I won’t be depressed. That’s just a fact, like melting ice burgs are facts. On the days you’re depressed those problems are circled red and underlined and that’s the only difference.

Who ever said life was supposed to feel good anyway? Ask the Buddha, she’ll tell you that life is made out of suffering. You can’t concentrate on the book you’re reading so you think you have ADD? All God ever promised anyone is one good skull; the brain inside doesn’t come wound up right. Brains are born wild and usually they die that way.

I don’t take anti-depressants, do you? I’m not judging, exactly. Some people really need them. But most people I know on meds are self-medicators to begin with. They take their Effexor and pile the booze and drugs and shitty food on top of that. A pill is a short cut and there are no short cuts. The very best thing to do is eat real food, exercise, meditate and get enough sleep. It’s hard to find the will to do that, I know. I don’t mean to lecture, all I’m saying is try. You gotta try that good stuff first. I’m talking to both of us right now. All of us. You know what the fuck I mean.

Anyway. I’m fine. See, I wrote something today. I’m feeling better already.

In other news: It took over a year but I think I’m all caught up on my outstanding free letters. I’ve got my typewriter plugged into the wall and my lips are feeling real loose. Send me your address, let me sink your battleship.

6 thoughts on “a day in the life of depression.

  1. Hey I would love a letter, was coincidentally wishing I had a penpal this morning. I don’t have your gmail address, let me know if this needs to go there instead:
    611 W Hazelhurst St. Ferndale, MI 48220

  2. molly laich at gmail dot com. also on the free letter page. I’m the only molly laich in the world!!! you’ll get your letter my love.

  3. Spent a lot of years in the same place.Now it feels like home to me. What is there to be happy about when humanity is killing all the species before it does itself in.Cockroaches will survive tho.

    WTF is wrong with melancholy. It used to be quite acceptable. Now that they sell happy meds it isn’t? That’s just so you’ll buy their shit.I’ve tested it for lots of money. It’s shit. Trust me.All of us paid volunteers know the truth.

    Read Houellebecq. He speaks to this. I hate happy smiley people.

  4. Molly, it’s hard to feel sorry for you when I’m jealous of your man. I feel too sorry for myself for not being good enough for you, or someone like you. Maybe I am, but how would I know? The world tells me to die.

  5. Are there different kind of depression? Like some people like to stay in their room, but others want to be with people,even though it does not change the intensity of their depression . I am this kind . I can not stop crying .
    Even at work . And even when I am doing the work , which is being with another person . I can not stop my tears from falling down. Those big drops , i mean. It is embaracing . And make me feel even less of a person . I hate
    Needing people. But I do need them when I am depressed . When I am alone at home , and get this depressed
    I have to call some one . And I don’t just tear up , I cry loudly , because my heart feels like exploding .
    That,s why I need to talk to some one . Afterward I hate myself for belittling myself this way.
    Because I feel so helpless and hopeless , and they see it . I feel I can not do anything . And can,t make any decissions . Even small ones. Mine also is decorated with nostalgia . I miss people that used to be in my life .
    From work or friends or even neighbors that had just seen , did not even know. My fantasy is visulizing that I am dying . And that,s the only thing that gives me peace . Does any one feels this way ?

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