Funkity funk

I'm kind of in a pit.

It starts with the darkness creeping in around the edges, with the sense that I can stay in control as long as I can, y'know, stay in control.

Except I can't.  Ever.

I'll have one day where I have a meticulously organized to do list, and I get to everything on it.  Where I have things for the kids to do at every moment of the day, an idea of what to redirect them to every time things start to falter.  My house will be clean.  My dinner will be super healthy.   I'll laugh at myself, but it will be the nervous laugh of someone who knows that things falling apart is the norm, that being successful is the anomaly.   I'll overperform and please and perfect my ass off, believing that if I can just keep it together I can, y'know, keep it together.

And invariably the next day will be a bust.

I will wake up and not want to get dressed.  Not want to get off the couch.  Leave the TV on for too long.  Stare at twitter for too long, waiting for someone to see me and validate me and fix me.  I will sink and spiral and feel totally overwhelmed and defeated and ashamed that I've been defeated, ashamed that I am unable to do anything, unable to do anything because I am ashamed.

I am on the outside of all of this looking in.  I see what I am dong.  I see it and I feel the darkness creeping in and I am pissed about it.  I am afraid.  I feel like a dumbass for doing this.

I feel bored.  I feel discouraged.  I feel tired.  I feel unfulfilled.  I need a break.  I need a hobby.  I need some intellectual stimulation.  I need a win or two.  I need to feel like I'm special, like I matter, like I'm appreciated, like I belong.

I don't want to hear that it's just my brain chemistry, that it's just the disease, that it's not real.  That's an oversimplification and it doesn't really get the facts right.  The truth is, we live, we sense, we interpret, and we process, and there are a million places that can break down before we get to the chemicals.  There are a million places I could be broken or wrong or completely right and that could be making me sad.  So to say "oh, all of that is just depression" reduces my entire world to a disease, and that kind of labeling is very shaming.

But what I know to be true is this.  I feel sad and overwhelmed.  I don't feel like that's right.  I don't believe I have a real reason to be overwhelmed by my very easy life.  I"m mad about this.  Mad at myself.  Mad at the world.  Mad at my imagined perceptions of other people's perceptions of me.

I'm in a pit, in a funk.  And I just want to find my way out.