Over the past couple weeks, it has been really difficult to find the time, energy, and desire to write. I’ve been spending so much of my time sleeping or watching shows on Netflix and I’ve been feeling like I’ve been regressing back to my low point over a year ago. There are so many things that I want to write about and engage with but being able to actually do that? Usually very difficult.
I wish that depression was an easy fix, that I had the desire to do the things I love. Most of my days blend together, with me spending a ridiculous amount of time laying in bed because getting out of bed is difficult. Marathoning television shows is one of the few things that I regularly do.
Hyperbole and a Half’s Adventures in Depression is a great representation for so much of my experiences with depression. Getting up and doing things is so difficult sometimes and nothing seems to motivate me to get many things accomplished. Allie (the author of Hyperbole and a Half) wrote about one experience that I’ve gone through many times:
I spent months shut in my house, surfing the internet on top of a pile of my own dirty laundry which I set on the couch for “just a second” because I experienced a sudden moment of apathy on my way to the washer and couldn’t continue. And then, two weeks later, I still hadn’t completed that journey. But who cares – it wasn’t like I had been showering regularly and sitting on a pile of clothes isn’t necessarily uncomfortable. But even if it was, I couldn’t feel anything through the self hatred anyway, so it didn’t matter. JUST LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE.