Depression sucks. There's no way around that one. When you wake up and all that you can think about is the pain that is slowly eating you away. The tearing of the lining of your uterus screaming at you for not getting pregnant this month. You know that you've made your bed look like a murder scene because it's managed to hit you in the middle of the night without you noticing. You knew it was coming. When the white pills stop and you start those cute peach sugar pills, you know it's time to break out the Motrin.
When you get to work only to realize that your Wellbutrin is sitting on your night-stand untouched because you were in too big of a hurry to clean up your biohazardous bed, you get this sinking feeling that nothing is ever going to be right today. Tick. Tick. Tick. Time is moving both too fast and too slow. The end of work only means that you'll have to sit through 3 hours of lecture but work is monotonous and dull. Your procrastination won't allow for productivity and Pinterest is increasingly mind numbing. Highlight of the morning is being able to sneak off and grab a coffee with the boyfriend who brought you a lunch, which you also forgot. A peanut butter and jelly made with both heels of the bread. It's the thought that counts, at least someone in the office offered you buy you lunch.
Work ends. Class begins. Girls suck. Girls suck worse than depression sucks. They're chipper and bright and chirping about something that is of no social value. You know the girls who were "popular" in high school. Of course that's the label that we put on them so we don't feel bad that we're not friends with them. Their voices make me want to slam my head against the wall. Really, I thought I got into a good school; how did I get stuck with people like you? Judgmental? Horribly. Honest? Completely. Justified? Not at all.
Two calls during class. "WHAT DOES THE FOX..." before I'm able to silence my phone. Buzzzzzzzz. Buzzzzz. Before I'm able to stop it a second time. "I'm in class, call later." Whispered tones. Again with the slamming my head against the wall. This time out of mortification. I make fun of the people who's phone goes off in class. It's my fault though, A. because I mentioned to Mom that today was the worst day since Thanksgiving of 2010, B. because I left my fucking phone on.
One class down, one to go. Out of 12 presentations I'm the 11th to go and we can leave as soon as we're done. Having begged to go first of course I'm not allowed and wait sulking in the furthest place I can be from the instructor, trying to appear very interested in the book that is due for that class at the end of the semester. Tears will not fall. Tears will not fall. Get your shit together Julia. Nothing has happened to you today that would making crying justified. BUCK UP AND DEAL. 100% on the presentation. That's something. yay me! How horrible is it to get the best grade possible and still not be able to smile genuinely to the doctoral student who gave it to you?
Home, finally. First things first; I need a shower. The water doesn't get hot enough to bring me back into my head, it does get cold enough though. Shaving while shivering wasn't my best plan but I'll take one knick over the stubble that was forming under my arms. The Wellbutrin arrives. 45 minutes later I'm able to smile genuinely. I'm able to call Mom and tell her what happened and work through the struggles of the day. I'm able to mentally apologize to the girls in class who are different from me and have different priorities.
I'm able to be me.
I don't want to have to rely on a medicine to be me. Was it the medicine or the placebo? Did I allow myself happiness because I knew that I would be able to feel it as soon as the medicine kicked in? Who the hell knows? Who has the answers? Was it me?! Am I too dependent?
Do I care?
I was able to be me. Should I care? I didn't like who I was earlier today. If medicine helps me, why shouldn't I take it?
I just want to be able to be me.
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