I hate myself
and I want to die. No, that’s wrong. Kind of.
I don’t want to die. I just don’t want to feel like this any more.
Self loathing is most soul-destroying part of depression. Feeling flat is one thing. Despising yourself is another.
Hating yourself is a slippery thing. It rolls over and over itself, gaining momentum and thunder as it does.
I look in the mirror and I don’t like who I see. She makes me angry, this stupid, hopeless, lazy woman who is getting old quickly and can’t be satisfied with anything. She’s unappreciative, and not quite good enough, and sad.
Those are the thoughts run in my mind while I look at myself. Somewhere inside, someone- that five year old who lives in my head, maybe- is sobbing at me to stop, stop being so cruel, be kind to myself.
Once you start feeling that way about yourself, it’s difficult to keep up with it. Your thoughts run away with themselves. They drip like lurid green poison into your soul, tainting everything. They stick and they stain, and it takes a long time to rid yourself of them, once they start piling up.
I look in the mirror… and I don’t like who I see.
But hey… I’ve managed to brush my teeth, wash my face, and put on make up every morning for six days in a row now.
So I’ve got that going for me. Which is nice. And I’ve had a good weekend. I found myself a new psychologist here and things are starting to feel… better.