Drinking and mental illness go together like old people and Swiss Chalet. It’s true. I have a raging case of depression and I drank half of a bottle of birthday cake vodka in four weeks. I didn’t think that it was a problem until I realized that it is not normal to celebrate the day my mom shot me out of her vagina like a cannon ball for that long. In my defense, there have been other birthdays that I have celebrated this month, like the random “I don’t really know why I accepted your friend request on Facebook because I have no idea who you are Jimmmm Something Something but happy birthday you son of a bitch.”
Life tastes good with cake and life is made better with booze.
It’s only natural to marry the two in my mouth at the same time.
*Said your mom*
The trouble with medications for depression is this: they can take weeks, I’m talking 4 to 6 weeks, for them to work at their full potential. Do you know what that’s like for someone who is in death’s grip? It is excruciating. Some days I feel like lying down and giving up on life after an hour of being awake so living like that for an entire month, wordswordswordswords.
I know that drinking isn’t the cure for depression and in fact it does make it worse in the long run. Sometimes, however, you just need that extra hug to help get you through.
I’m not saying that I drink until I can’t feel feelings every day, I just do when the bottle is within my reach.
It’s only here and there just like anyone who has had a bad day at work every single day of the week.
All jokes aside, I’m afraid of this place in my head; that constant negative feedback keeps picking at me and my thoughts are now shifting in a direction that I don’t want them to go. They are settling in comfortably and making my body feel as though it is weighed heavily on the ground. It’s like gravity was all, “F*ck it. You’re now a cinderblock.” No one wants to feel like a cinderblock.
While I feel hell’s heat at my back and wrapping around my throat, there is nothing wrong with what is in front of me; hope in new days.
When I lose hope, someone better f*cking come pick me up.
These were new days that I am thankful of experiencing:
Do me a favour this week…
…call that friend who needs a smile.
As always, the button never effing works. Join here: http://summat2thinkon.wordpress.com/2014/10/17/ten-things-of-thankful-70/