I’m so tired right now, both physically and mentally.

I’ve been running around doing things non-stop since Thursday. First my dad’s birthday, then my sister Y’s birthday, plus all the errands and stuff I’ve been doing with MM, plus today I went to the movies with mom and baked an apple pie before dinner. I’ve barely had time to just hang around the house in silence; have barely had any “me” time.

I guess in a sense it’s good, because I can avoid going into “rumination-mode” and avoid the intolerable inertia that depression has given me. It’s always good to keep myself busy and not give myself the chance to lay in bed all day. That never yields good results.

However, I’m physically tired because my sleep hasn’t been very restorative these last few days for some reason. Maybe it has to do with all the noise in the house in the mornings, I don’t know.

But in addition to that, I’m also mentally exhausted. Fortunately, I think I know why.

Having my dad’s and sister’s birthdays one after the other drained me because of all the socializing with family and my sister’s friends. I’m so ridiculously introverted that if I socialize in a group setting two or three times in a row (outside of school/work) I start feeling drained and desperate for “me” time. As in, I-get-so-drained-I-get-cranky drained.

But obviously it also has to do with depression. Anything that involves socializing or getting out of bed takes huge effort. So, after I do anything, any little thing, I feel pretty tired. It’s pretty frustrating because under normal circumstances (or at least up until college) I liked keeping myself busy.

Naturally, because of that effing inertia, I’m always making up excuses to not do things. I even make up excuses to not paint. It’s always too late, or there’s not enough light, or it’s too hot, or I’m not inspired, or I don’t feel like taking out all my materials or cleaning up afterward. It’s like that with every damn thing I have to do or try to do. And having to make decisions on top of all those excuses really makes the shit hit the fan. Today I almost had a tantrum because I couldn’t decide between staying in sleeping or going to the movies with mom. Honestly, it feels pretty pathetic.

Yesterday I spent more than an hour talking to MM before going to bed (finally!). I told her I’ve been ruminating too much on whether I should e-mail this psychiatry professor from my medical school to see if I can do research with her during the leave of absence. She said I have to just take a risk and do the things I feel like doing without thinking too much, because thinking leads to rumination. I have to follow my gut feeling, she says.

But I didn’t know how to explain to her that my little pal depression makes “taking a risk” or “following my gut feeling” practically impossible. Yet, I know I have to do those things because the only thing I’ve achieved by not doing anything is getting worse. In the end, I don’t know if I’m making up too many excuses to do things, or if I’m just being too tough on myself by forcing myself to do things.

The truth is, it was a good day today. And yesterday. The only constant, as usual, has been that feeling of disgust whenever I’m full and feeling like a fucking whale. But, the point I want to get across is that…this whole being positive thing is more exhausting than I thought it would be.

I think, being negative is like an addiction. And I’ve been addicted for most of my life. Whenever I try to fight the addiction it’s always easier to fall back on that negative-mindset in the beginning. Thing is, I’ve never been able to remain “clean” for a long period of time. My mind is addicted to those little self-deprecating words it makes up, and before long it starts craving them again.

It’s kind of difficult when you’re both the addict and the drug dealer. Endless supply, endless possibilities.


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