Depression is a Bitch

Dirty plates, candy wrappers and empty coke bottles litter my floor and even one side of my bed.

I can’t get up.

I have no motivation to do anything – ever writing this post took a few hours to get started; it was in my head that I wanted to jot down my feelings and my pain but it’s been easier to lie semi-awake in a horizontal position stuffing my face with candy and scones than even scribble down a few words.

These days come to me a lot. Days when I can’t get up, do anything, even take a shower. I think I last took a shower on Thursday morning but I could be wrong. I “worked” from home yesterday – meaning, I lay in bed with a laptop attempting to finish tasks but didn’t get much done.

I haven’t now left the house in over 50 hours even though I have a full-time job, shit to do, a business to run. But when I hit a low point I cannot physically and mentally function.

My head tells me that I’m shit. That I’m fat. That I’m useless and crap at everything I do and that I’m worth nothing and I’d better be off dead.

My mind is anxious and pissed off. I hate my greasy hair and my ever-expanding waistline, my addiction to sugary snacks and eating, and my dirty moldy room and disgusting house. I get itchy even thinking about it and want to vomit it all out, the shit needs to go!

But at the same time I simply can not get off my ass. I’m like glued onto my bed and the annoyance and anxiety are not big enough emotions to get me going. It’s just like I’m paralyzed on the outside but fuming and on fire on the inside.

It’s so uncomfortable. I better peel myself off and go make some more junk food to eat to drown my feelings – for a moment when I eat I feel better and but then it all comes back again afterwards; I need to keep eating and watching movies to stay on top of the shit that’s brewing on the inside.

I just feel so fucking shit it’s unbelievable.


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