Depression sucks.

I tried going to bed, but my brain won't shut the fuck up, so I'm writing this instead.

Been dealing with a bout of depression lately, and since this is my therapy journal, you get to read about the reasons why I'm depressed. Lucky you.

Robin Williams. Robin fucking Williams lost his battle with depression and left the fucking planet. I know it might seem like a strange thing to be depressed about. It isn't as if I knew him personally. It isn't even as if I was crazy-obsessed with him as a fan. Yet, he's a personality I grew up with, ever since "Mork and Mindy" when I was a kid. To hear of his suicide was a kick in the teeth. The subsequent explosion of posts on Facebook about his death, and about suicide-in-general, touched off my depression.

Said depression was exacerbated by running out of pain medication and ending up in withdrawal from Percocet for three days. To make matters worse, my primary computer died, and I am left with just my netbook. (She's practically indestructible, but she's small and slow.) All these things in addition to the stuff that has happened to my friends in the last few weeks has made for a particularly irritating bout of depression that I would very like much to end now, please.

I've been dealing with it pretty much the way I always deal with depression: sleeping it off. I'm still not sure if this is healthy. I sleep a lot during the day when I get like this, and I'm utterly unmotivated to do anything else. It sucks. That's what depression does. It sucks the life right out of you, and that can be terrifyingly literal in cases such as Mr. Williams.

I haven't had actual suicidal ideation as of late, but my subconscious has been flirting with it. I've had dreams about it. I wake up and I realize that I am, in fact, okay, but it's still disconcerting to dream about suicide. I never, ever want to put Matt through that. I don't even want to put the cats through that. I'm not that selfish, am I? I'm not that weak.

But if someone like Robin Williams can sink that low... well, you can guess the rest of the thought process. So many times we put celebrities on pedestals and forget that they are, in fact, human. We do the same thing with ourselves. It's really important for someone with depression to remember that being human is okay. That being weak and selfish sometimes is okay. That being sad sometimes is, also, okay. It's depression that holds us to impossible standards. "You must always be happy. You must always put others before yourself. You must always be strong. If you are not, you are defective. If you are defective, then you should just give up now."

Well, I'm not giving up. This is not a severe depression. I've been through much worse. It's more of an annoyance than anything. Yet, I still get angry at myself for it. "Aren't you over this by now? You've got medication, you've got friends, you've got a wonderful husband, you've got a roof over your head and food to eat and a high-speed internet connection. You have nothing to be depressed about." But that's the point. Depression doesn't make any damn sense, and it tries to convince you that you're broken.

I try really hard not to think of myself as broken. Broken means I need to be "fixed," and I'm not a dead laptop or an un-neutered pet. What I need is to know what I need, and depression makes that difficult. I feel like what I need right now is motivation, something to look forward to, and a reason to get up in the morning. Guess what? I have those things. Now I just need to realize that I have them, and take action.