I can do this, yes? No. Wait... yes.

Ok, some how I managed to get through the day. By some stroke of luck, I didn't lose my job or ruin any relationships. I should feel accomplished for having displayed any strength at all when, frankly, I would have liked to just off myself in order to not have to go through this downward spiral again, right? Wrong. Instead, I just feel embarrassed by what a complete fucking moron I must have looked like today. 

I know, I know - can't help the way I feel, don't beat myself over it, only making things worse, blahblah whatever the fuck. I really am trying to take the tools Elle has given me and use them to beat this funk. But the lack of control over my self feels like a weakness on my part, and I abhor weakness. If I thought I could manage it, I would force myself to get better just prove I could do it (because there's not much I enjoy more than proving someone wrong), but there's no way of knowing how I'm going to feel in two fucking hours, so chances are I'll start and then give up because "it's all so pointless". Or I'll snap out this and forget there's anything to be down about till next time. Who knows? It all depends on what life and my brain throw at me next.

You see what I have to deal with? I'll be fine, amazing even, and one little thing will get me down. If I don't pick myself up right away, other little triggers will start to pile on, like a ball of shit being rolled around by a dung beetle*. Eventually I will start feel so down that I begin to resent myself, and that's where the self-loathing kicks in. Inevitably, something good will happen - like hanging out with a friend, reciting all the lines from nostalgia-inducing 80's movie ("FIGHT THE SADNESS, ARTAX!"), or pissing my pants laughing over an internet meme - that I forget there's anything wrong. And thus we come full circle. 

" I am an educated white female living in the third best rated city in Canada. I have all of my appendages plus (as a bonus) huge tits, manageable hair, great legs and bangin' eyebrows. I am laden with skills both necessary (cooking, sewing, hygiene, shoelace-tying) and inane (butter-churning, mirror-writing, song-memorizing) and I am sponge for random facts. My need to absorb new information constantly means that I am rarely bored. I live all on my own, which I understand is something many people are incapable of doing for various reasons.  I have lots of gadgets on which to read books and listen to music (which are essential to me) and I managed to score all the furniture after my first serious breakup. I have good relationship with my sister and some of the best friends any one could ask for."

So these are the things I need to focus on, although it's exhausting to put that much effort into positive thinking when half of my mind seems to be fighting against it. I'm told that eventually it'll become second nature to look on the bright side automatically, like remembering to put on deodorant every morning. I sure as shit hope so, because I like depression as much as I like B.O..

Which is not at all.

*(I realize that I could have just as easily gone with the snowball analogy, but that's just the kind of day I've been having.)

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