I have no idea when I'll be able to work on this website or more drawings/comics. I've got a lot of work the next few weeks. Right now, I should be finishing up a project proposal for one of my classes, but I'm having the hardest time concentrating. I've gotten a grand total of three sentences done in the past couple of hours. It feels like depression's acting up a bit, so that may be why. Either that or I'm being lazy and using depression as an excuse, though if that were the case you'd think I'd be aware of my trickery. Plus, I absolutely hate using depression as an excuse.
Actually, I'm slightly freaking out because I have papers due in my two French classes. They're not even due for a while, but they're each like 10 pages long and I tend to be a slow writer and I have to read articles for them and gah. La vie d'une étudiante... Man, I should have been out of school like a year ago. Ooops. I guess that's what happens when you change majors at the last second and drop a couple semesters.
Y'know, overall, it's going pretty well depression-wise. I can get up out of bed in the mornings. I can usually get work done. I can laugh and enjoy myself. But it's still here and it's still hard. I've somehow gotten into the habit of occasionally slapping myself during depression episodes. It's not ideal, but I've had worse. I haven't been suicidal since high school so, you know, that's something to be proud of. I'll take what I can get.
I had a chat with a couple of my friends about how I'm very much an oxymoron in that I'm an optimist, despite the fact that I have depression. I've been optimistic since before I developed depression, so I think it's just able to push depression away sometimes now that I've had treatment. It's odd, it's like... I believe the best of people, I believe in the good of the world, and I believe in hope for the future. It's not that I'm oblivious to atrocities around the world; I just know there's a lot of good out there too, and I think it outweighs the bad. Besides, if you want to make positive change in the world, you have to be an optimist because otherwise it'd be so easy to get discouraged and feel like it's all pointless.
Depression mainly attacks my perception of myself, so that may explain how I'm still able to be optimistic in that way. My depression primarily sticks thoughts of self-hate and self-doubt into my mind. I generally don't doubt others' abilities; in some ways, my perception of them may be amplified because I end up downplaying my own abilities so much. Somehow I can convince myself that I'm a terrible person with no redeeming qualities whatsoever, which makes no sense at all. I know I'm a good person in general. I just... forget sometimes, I guess.
This is kind of silly, but to force myself to remember my talents, I actually printed out a copy of a really encouraging email about my comic. I just kinda keep it in my pocket and look at it if I start doubting myself. It's nice because the person who sent it (one of my professors) had no reason to praise me so much, so he must have actually liked it. A compliment from my mom or even from a friend always carries with it that twinge of doubt because it's easy to think "they're just being nice." It's distorted thinking, I know, but it's still there. The email was insanely positive too. Like, I'm having a hard time believing that it was directed to me. It just clashes so much with my (twisted) self-perception and it's extremely hard to dismiss as over-exaggeration or "just being nice." I love it. It's forcing me to accept that I may have talent. You'd think it'd be easy to accept that notion, but depression's got a strong grip.
Am I analyzing myself again? It appears so. That wasn't the intention when I went in to write this.
fuck, I don't know if I'm going to be able to finish this project proposal. I should probably go to sleep and just use the DSS accommodation, but I hate using it. It feels like I'm making up excuses or being lazy or just straight-up blowing it off. I'm 100% sure my professor would understand if I told him, but that's not the issue. I don't even know what the issue is. I guess it's just that I'm sick of depression having its way constantly. Ugh.
Recommended song: The Monster by Eminem, feat. Rihanna. It's a nice description of living with mental illness in that it's largely about accepting that you're living with it and learning to get along with it. I'm still struggling with that, I think. I've more or less accepted that it's a part of me, but I hate it and I still wish desperately that it would disappear. Maybe a better approach is to treat it like an obnoxiously irritating roommate. Whether I'm able to treat it that way is another story altogether, but it's an idea for me to consider. This is why I like having these long rambling blog posts... Sometimes it helps me understand myself and lets me think of new coping mechanisms.
I'm not going to get this thing done tonight. Remember to stop for air, Alia. It's frustrating as hell, but it's necessary. It'll be fine. It's not your fault. It's an illness. Playing soccer with a broken leg would be idiotic. So is pushing yourself with a broken mind. Either email your professor now or just tell him tomorrow in class/office hours. It'll be fine. He'll understand. Stop beating yourself up and go to sleep. (note to self: immediately following that sentence with "you goddamn motherfucking idiot" is very counter-productive. we need to work on avoiding insults.)
I'm friends with the monster that's under my bed
Get along with the voices inside of my head
You're trying to save me, stop holding your breath
And you think I'm crazy, yeah you think I'm crazy
Well that's not fair.
Actually, I'm slightly freaking out because I have papers due in my two French classes. They're not even due for a while, but they're each like 10 pages long and I tend to be a slow writer and I have to read articles for them and gah. La vie d'une étudiante... Man, I should have been out of school like a year ago. Ooops. I guess that's what happens when you change majors at the last second and drop a couple semesters.
Y'know, overall, it's going pretty well depression-wise. I can get up out of bed in the mornings. I can usually get work done. I can laugh and enjoy myself. But it's still here and it's still hard. I've somehow gotten into the habit of occasionally slapping myself during depression episodes. It's not ideal, but I've had worse. I haven't been suicidal since high school so, you know, that's something to be proud of. I'll take what I can get.
I had a chat with a couple of my friends about how I'm very much an oxymoron in that I'm an optimist, despite the fact that I have depression. I've been optimistic since before I developed depression, so I think it's just able to push depression away sometimes now that I've had treatment. It's odd, it's like... I believe the best of people, I believe in the good of the world, and I believe in hope for the future. It's not that I'm oblivious to atrocities around the world; I just know there's a lot of good out there too, and I think it outweighs the bad. Besides, if you want to make positive change in the world, you have to be an optimist because otherwise it'd be so easy to get discouraged and feel like it's all pointless.
Depression mainly attacks my perception of myself, so that may explain how I'm still able to be optimistic in that way. My depression primarily sticks thoughts of self-hate and self-doubt into my mind. I generally don't doubt others' abilities; in some ways, my perception of them may be amplified because I end up downplaying my own abilities so much. Somehow I can convince myself that I'm a terrible person with no redeeming qualities whatsoever, which makes no sense at all. I know I'm a good person in general. I just... forget sometimes, I guess.
This is kind of silly, but to force myself to remember my talents, I actually printed out a copy of a really encouraging email about my comic. I just kinda keep it in my pocket and look at it if I start doubting myself. It's nice because the person who sent it (one of my professors) had no reason to praise me so much, so he must have actually liked it. A compliment from my mom or even from a friend always carries with it that twinge of doubt because it's easy to think "they're just being nice." It's distorted thinking, I know, but it's still there. The email was insanely positive too. Like, I'm having a hard time believing that it was directed to me. It just clashes so much with my (twisted) self-perception and it's extremely hard to dismiss as over-exaggeration or "just being nice." I love it. It's forcing me to accept that I may have talent. You'd think it'd be easy to accept that notion, but depression's got a strong grip.
Am I analyzing myself again? It appears so. That wasn't the intention when I went in to write this.
fuck, I don't know if I'm going to be able to finish this project proposal. I should probably go to sleep and just use the DSS accommodation, but I hate using it. It feels like I'm making up excuses or being lazy or just straight-up blowing it off. I'm 100% sure my professor would understand if I told him, but that's not the issue. I don't even know what the issue is. I guess it's just that I'm sick of depression having its way constantly. Ugh.
Recommended song: The Monster by Eminem, feat. Rihanna. It's a nice description of living with mental illness in that it's largely about accepting that you're living with it and learning to get along with it. I'm still struggling with that, I think. I've more or less accepted that it's a part of me, but I hate it and I still wish desperately that it would disappear. Maybe a better approach is to treat it like an obnoxiously irritating roommate. Whether I'm able to treat it that way is another story altogether, but it's an idea for me to consider. This is why I like having these long rambling blog posts... Sometimes it helps me understand myself and lets me think of new coping mechanisms.
I'm not going to get this thing done tonight. Remember to stop for air, Alia. It's frustrating as hell, but it's necessary. It'll be fine. It's not your fault. It's an illness. Playing soccer with a broken leg would be idiotic. So is pushing yourself with a broken mind. Either email your professor now or just tell him tomorrow in class/office hours. It'll be fine. He'll understand. Stop beating yourself up and go to sleep. (note to self: immediately following that sentence with "you goddamn motherfucking idiot" is very counter-productive. we need to work on avoiding insults.)
I'm friends with the monster that's under my bed
Get along with the voices inside of my head
You're trying to save me, stop holding your breath
And you think I'm crazy, yeah you think I'm crazy
Well that's not fair.