I allowed myself four days off blogging, safe in the knowledge that I would be able to catch up. Why did I give myself these days off? Because for the last few days, I have been angry. Not just “Oh, you pissed me off” angry – but Hulk, “I want to high five you in the face with a chair” angry. Why? Because these are the days that coincide with my “I’m a depressed head f**k” days.
Every now and then, I get days of pure rage. Everything makes me want to scream, nothing seems to go right, A cup not put in the sink can make me see red. I know that when it does happen I need to isolate myself a little bit, take a step back and just breathe.
I am shocking in that when I am angry I take it out on people who don’t deserve it. I don’t mean to do it, I just become much more caustic and volatile, my sarcasm reaches new heights and I imagine peoples heads stuck on totem poles as warning signs to not come near me.
I get cranky over things that aren’t worth it, I over-react to them in ways that just need not happen, and I end up hurting people with my words that I just can’t hold in. Even if the person has been perfectly fine, courteous, whatever, I still have an irrepressible need to just tell them to shut the f**k up because they’re letting their inner moron shine through.
I become something rather nasty, a mere shadow of myself, and basically, not nice to be around. The bit that’s ironic is this is when thoughts that I normally ignore came raring through, I feel alone and isolated, and need people. I need someone who tells me to get the eff over it, and people to tell me that it’s all going to be ok, and to show me that I am not a bad person. I get cranky because people aren’t there for me, but I know that in these days I push them away. Doesn’t make sense, does it? Hey, I want you to come visit me, but I’m going to abuse you, so don’t come… but if you don’t come, you’re going to cop it anyway. Leave me alone because I’m lonely. Have a nice day!
I know that this is an aspect of depression that most people who have suffered it have lived through. I don’t know why it happens when it does, but I know that when it does I want people to see that it’s when I hurt the most that I swear I’m OK. I want people to say “I know you’re not OK, but you will be. One day.”
I want to have the guts to say to people, “You know what? I’m not OK. I don’t want to be alone. I’m scared.” But I don’t. I doubt I ever will.