how many more days till my birthday?

[schmerica]

Edited to fix text so half this entry wasn't strangely eaten. I am not so crazy that I am starting lj entries midway through sentences.

So, you may have noticed a pattern in my last few friends-locked entries, with regards to me completely losing my shit. The last few days = fun time in Erica's brain. Hi, there, depressive episode! Long time no see! We've missed you!

There's things I should be doing, but I can't make myself do them at all, and really, I'm trying to avoid thinking about them, because I get all panicky and freak out and start beating myself up a whole lot.

But I can't really do anything fun, either. I mean, if you're going to not do your homework and skip classes, it would be nice if you could at least read your books or watch movies or play games, right? Except, oh, the guilt, the crushing guilt. If you're not doing the responsible stuff, fine, but you don't get to do anything worthwhile, either.

Plus, there's also the "unable to hold any social interactions or leave my tiny little safe space" thing. I just spent fifteen minutes talking to fox1013 online and I'm already feeling a little bit weird -- and this is *Fox*, my most darling and comforting of people.

I'm so tired. Just looking around my room makes me tired. It's like every bad thing is further proof of my failure -- as if the fact that I have so much dirty laundry makes me a bad person somehow. And then every good thing, every wondeful bit of Erica-ness -- well. That's almost worse in a way, because it shows than I *can* do that, that I *can* be better, which mean that this, right now -- this is just me being lazy, this is just me falling apart, this is me being weak. I know I can do better and I'm doing this badly anyway.

Mostly I spend a lot of time sleeping. Probably at least 12/24 hours, closer to 16 sometimes. Showers are good, too, nice long ones. Cooking depends -- it can either be much with the comforting, as you cook and cook until you have way more food than you need, or it can be the opposite, and just be more work, too much work to think about, so you leave it alone and don't eat till your stomach is cramping in pain, and event hen you can't manage anything more than plain bread or fingertips of nutella.

I did do some homework today, though, and study for my language quiz, so that's something. And I'm all ready for class tomorrow, and then I'll go and pick up the film for Wednesday and preview it, and work on that.

Right now I think I need to go back to bed again, though.

So, yes. Normally I would feel more shame about this, but as you can see, I'm already pretty much down to incredibly needy at this point. So anybody who wants to give comment porn/fic or tell me nice things? You can be my new favorite.

Comments

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Well, yes, it's definitely depression -- I mean, god knows I recognize the signs by now. It's just that knowing that doesn't *help* any, you know? It always, always feels like a stupid excuse. And then my mind keeps inviting comparisons with other people ("you don't have it so bad compared to *them*" or "look, she's depressed, too, but she still gets her fucking papers done").

Anyway, yes. Thank you a lot. *hugs*