Depression is a terrible drug.

Some of you might not be aware, but I’m finally moving on Saturday.

I’d be happy about that if my head would let me.

I hate shock. Shock to your emotions tends to shut you down. You don’t realize that you are just floating by until you crash from that shock. And then you are embarrassed.

I am scared of what I have done to my body these past few weeks. We haven’t been able to eat at home because cooking in a place where you feel like you don’t belong makes you not want to eat what you cooked. It’s hostile. We buy premade food at the grocery store next door if we’re hungry and eat in our bed. I feel gross doing it. I am pretty sure I have been overeating, but I haven’t been gaining enough to warrant that feeling. Maybe I’m not even eating enough on most days, then binging on bad days? That actually sounds more like me.

I apparently eat a lot of carbs when I’m stressed. They truly are comforting. We’ve had a soda or 2 every day for almost 3 weeks. So god damn bad. I am so stressed that I can’t remember most of what I say, type, learn, talk about to other people, or even what I am thinking. And I cannot convince myself that once I move everything will be better. It’s been so long since I have had to hold up a mask for as long as I have to make sure that everyone else is okay with being around me. I am not fun to be around when I’m depressed. Ask my husband. Ask my mother. Three weeks is a long time to be fake to everyone you see so that they all believe you are okay and still remain sane after years of being comfortable with being yourself.

I don’t like people. This is nothing new. It’s been a few years since I have allowed myself to make friends. Especially over the course of this past year, I refused to let many get close to me. I still kind of do. There are two guys in my training class that I absolutely adore; Chris has some teammates that are freaking awesome (one of which being the first person from work that I added on FB). This happening to us and me still having to go to work with a smile on my face put me under even more stress. At least the anxiety went mostly away. My brain tells me that I have to look mostly happy to these people. Β They know what’s going on, but they don’t know what I am doing to myself.

My headaches these past two days seem to be mostly related to stress. I cried a bit and feel a little better. Apparently crying releases the chemical that makes you stressed, and that’s why you feel better after you cry. Maybe the symptom of that chemical build up is a stupidly heavy pressure headache?

All I know is that I want to just sleep forever. Next week I should be able to get back in the swing of tracking, cooking my own food, and exercising properly. I won’t be walking a mile uphill every morning anymore, and I will be able to sleep properly (and my schedule won’t be wake up at god awful early in the fucking morning). Everything, theoretically, should be better.

Now, if only I could tell my brain that it will be. :(