Pffffft. Brain fog of depression is here again. Hello, you. Nice to see you. No, that’s a lie, it’s HORRIBLE to see you, because you’re a JERK. I was trying to be be polite. It’s good to be polite. And, hey, don’t wail out there in the cold. Come in and sit by the fire. I’ll make you a brew. Crumpet? Croissant? Help yourself.
Partly I’m saying that because I’m so nice, and partly because I know you’re not going away. You’ll either wail outside the door in the cold, and I’ll plug my ears and mush my head between my cushions and turn the TV volume up to full, yet still I will hear you - or I’ll let you in and you’ll sit here in my front room and… be nice? You’ll be nice, right?
No, OK, you’ll sit here and wail. OK. Well that’s pretty annoying. But I know you’re hurting, so just stay here, and we’ll do the best we can.
Umm. Let me try to think. It’s hard. I’ve been off today. I’ve washed clothes, eaten fruit, read my book, checked in with the news, thought about Christmas presents, done weights and push-ups, finished a quick crossword (cheated a few times), cooked proper food, washed up, tried a few blog post ideas that didn’t work, and played Zelda on Switch to inch closer to completing it.
Day hasn’t been bad. But here’s this foggy depression jerk sitting here wailing.
Well, what you gonna do? When I try to push him away he just wails louder, stamps his feet, screams until the walls begin to shake. So I’ll let him stay, bring him cups of tea, try to get on with things. It isn’t easy, but nothing ever is.
He's such a jerk that voice of depression. Hope it bogs off soon. Well done for keeping going. That is true strength
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