Down the garbage chute

I hate this. I woke up this morning ready to make craft projects to sell on eBay. Get my name out there, make some money, feel useful.

I made one dream catcher. It was a complicated and time-consuming one, so I was pretty tired when I finished. I thought I’d just take a nap and when I woke up I’d make more stuff. I mean, I’ve had energy to spare for weeks now. Shouldn’t be difficult.

Instead, I woke up pissed off and depressed. Oh, fun.

I ate some comfort food–cookies. I tried to find someone to talk to online, but I didn’t try very hard. I started reading a book I’ve been meaning to read for over a month. Nothing worked.

Now I’m devoid of energy. Any energy. It’s an effort to write this. I hate it.

You hear about depression as its own separate mental illness for some people, distinct from bipolar disorder by its lack of manic or mixed-mood episodes… but you don’t really hear about mania as a condition.

Of course you don’t. Why would society want to stigmatize cheery, energetic, euphoric people?

Granted, mania isn’t all shits and giggles. It’s frantic, racing thoughts. It’s reckless decisions. It’s a million pieces of input at once, a trillion ideas that all have to be tended to now.

Maybe a shower will cheer me up. Or at least make me feel less defeated. Probably not, but I won’t be all grimy and gross.


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