Depression Truly Truly Truly Sucks

Look, I am going to be honest. I have had some really good weeks this year. I mean feeling good, having a positive outlook, and being able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

The weight loss journey is hard this time but it’s working. I should be losing weight faster but that’s not the point. The point is I am losing weight. And with that I am feeling good and moving.

Kids are great. Both doing extremely well with academics. I am going to share how many awards my son wins after Thursday. Baseball he has done real well, butttttt there is a pretty bad situation that I am going to get resolved. But both are great!

I’m building my Substack every day. Twitter is truly dead. I mean, I use it but it’s just garbage. It is kind of like when you were a kid you loved a mall and then years later it is the worst mall with off name stores. Yeah, that’s Twitter now.

I am not pushing or selling my art as much which is fine. But overall I’m okay.

I’m writing all of this to kind of let you know that I am good. I can see that all in writing. I went and reread it twice.

Yet, for some strange reason, out of nowhere, depression hit today. And it has not hit me in some time.

I am worthless. No one cares about me. Literally all of these crazy thoughts went through my head and I’m listening to them and for some reason I am believing them and I have no idea why.

Depression is just the worst fucking thing. It lies so bad and will suck every bit of talent and desire to function. it is crippling and most people keep it to themselves.

It is really hard for me to talk about it, even here. Because someone will comment or message me some remedy or book or medication to fix it because it worked for them. To me, that just puts me in not only a more depressed state, but anger. Anger because I entrust someone to listen to me and they become an expert. And when you say something, you get the “I was just trying to help. Next time I won’t say anything.”

No…next time I will not say anything and just keep it to myself. Literally, I just want you to listen. That is all. I do not need to be fixed. I want to tell you how I feel without any judgement and process what I am saying (or writing) so I can see how ridiculous it is.

That is why I am writing this. Because I am looking over it, and none of it makes sense. None of this. And it just proves that depression is a huge f*cking liar.

But damn it is convincing. Sure has been this week.

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