My mental health is at an all-time low.
I've at least slightly mitigated the damage by being somewhat active on twitter, with various comments, including actual notable breakthroughs.
My most notable breakthrough was in figuring out why when I tell others anything to the effect of, "I'm trash", and they tell me that I'm not, why in spite of their replies being sincere, they feel empty to me.
Basically, I figured it out, that the reason for this? Because they could say that to anyone. Anyone saying "I'm trash" would receive the reply of "you're not". It might be true! Because nobody who thinks they trash actually is. So while the statements might be true. That I'm not trash. And they truly believe them. They truly believe I'm not trash.
The issue is that they are a cookie cutter reply that could be said to anyone. I'm not trash because nobody is trash. True as that may be, it is the problem because it's not personalized.
A response that could be said to anyone being said to me isn't really a response to me, now, is it? For it to feel like it's a response to me...it needs to feel like a response to me that can't be said to anyone, that is specifically tailored to me.
I wanted to actually write a full blog delving into the finer details of that when I had the breakthrough.
But.
I can't manage much of anything.
I'm managing to...basically fail at everything right now.
I've set my date of coming out. The 25th of this month.
I'm on the verge of making the single largest biggest change in my life that I can; coming out publicly.
Instead of working on it.
I've done.
Nothing.
I tried to do art.
But I couldn't make something I wanted to make.
So.
Just.
Waste.
I'm sleeping.
I'm surviving.
But I'm doing nothing more than the bare minimum and often not even that, as my lack of blogs has shown.
You might be able to tell.
I've been rather unkind to myself and in a very bad mental state.
But I don't know how to not be.
My depression is literally consuming me right now. Eating me up. Swallowing me. And I've...no answer to it. Just. Am being. Crushed by it. Consumed by it.
I've forgotten how to be happy.
I said it in a tweet, but.
In the battle between the depression of "you're trash" and the happiness of "you are a strong, powerful woman".
I know the latter has beaten the former before.
But I genuinely can't remember the last time it did.
Because right now it's nothing but the former.
So I'm not exaggerating.
I've forgotten the last time I was confident and optimistic and cheerful and idealistic and happy.
I know I have been. It's happened before. Weeks ago, maybe months ago, but it's happened before, many times.
Just.
Not recently.
And right now it's so bad, so clouding, so consuming.
That I legit.
Am serious.
I've forgotten what it's like to be happy.