Warmer at least

[branchandroot]

I really hate depression. It's just so /annoying/. It can be a lovely day, your review of resumes can be going swimmingly, your faculty support structure can be looking pretty darn solid for emergency jury rigging, you can have conquered iTunes losing your damn tags...

And /still/ feel like your brain is made of porridge and there's nothing nice in life ever. It's just so blatantly a neurochemical lie your brain is telling you that it really offends me.

So I'm going to go sit on the porch for an hour and read fic and have a soda and revel in my now end-to-end hardwired sound system, and my neurochemistry can just suck it.

Note to self so I don't damn well forget: dinner will be onigiri and miso soup.

Comments

[recessional]

And /still/ feel like your brain is made of porridge and there's nothing nice in life ever. It's just so blatantly a neurochemical lie your brain is telling you that it really offends me.

:fistbump:

(I LITERALLY got a lovely email from someone this morning, completely spontaneous, about me and my writing-work being a positive thing in their life. GUESS WHAT MY BRAIN IS TRYING TO CHANT AT ME RIGHT NOW.)

[branchandroot]

*fistbump* I know, right? It's self-evident nonsense /and yet/.

[annotated_em]

Brain weasels are the fucking worst.

[branchandroot]

They are absolutely the worst. The thing making me so pissy is that I /have/ my dried frog pills! They're definitely working, because I'd never be this functional if they weren't. But apparently "mostly normal person serotonin levels" are not quite enough to ward off the weasels. Bah.

[edenfalling]

My depression likes to sing the "nothing you do will ever matter, so why do anything at all?" song. It's such an obvious lie, and yet even with store-bought neurotransmitters filling in the biggest gaps, my brain keeps trying to fall for it. *headdesk*

[branchandroot]

Exactly! It's like trying to keep a wheelbarrow from going ka-thunk into a rut.

[niqaeli]

*fistbump*

[branchandroot]

*fistbump*