Asshole

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

TW:  Suicidal Thoughts.

My brain is kind of an asshole.

I’m doing better, and depression doesn’t like that, so of course, it finds something to latch onto.  Some topic that seems upsetting.

This topic becomes the end of the world.

This topic involves conflict and conflict is my greatest fear (well, that and being completely broke again) so of course, the easiest way out is death.

Which is dumb when you really think about it, because death is far from easy.  I don’t even currently have a workable plan.  Not that my brain hasn’t been working it’s ass off on finding one.  (Believe me, if it finds one, I’ll do the same thing I did with the meds, things will end up locked up, or somehow, seemingly out of my reach, so that my brain at least thinks that’s not a viable option).

My brain is obviously still trying to kill me.

It’ll pass.

But in the mean time, this topic is unsettling.

I’m not ready to talk about it, but yet it needs to be talked about.  It’s one of those things I need to love through and grieve through and work through, but I haven’t found the strength to do so yet.  I know that eventually I’ll find the strength and realize it was there all along.  I’ll eventually feel like this wasn’t that big of a deal and it’ll eventually seem like I’m making a mountain out of a molehill.

But for now, I can’t see it that way.  For now, it seems life altering and therefore it is life altering.

For now, I’m fighting to stay out of bed, fighting to keep from pulling the covers up over my head.  Fighting the darkness that wants to take over again.

For now I’m struggling to find something to occupy my time when nothing seems interesting and everything just makes me want to crawl back underneath my warm covers.

But I know that’s the worst place for me to be.

My brain is kind of an asshole.

Is it bedtime yet?

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