say something

The most difficult part of trauma and depression is how unpredictable it is.

I had an entire day of activities planned and I woke up sobbing. 

It was the kind of crying where I didn't even feel like I was the one crying. 

But rather the crying had a life of its own and was having me. 

And I had no choice but to let it consume me.

I've been sad before. 

But there's always been a reason, a simple cause and effect, and I've understood what I was feeling and why. 

I've known it was coming and could prepare and adjust accordingly. 

What's happening to me now is so erratic and inconsistent, it frightens me. 

I cancelled my brunch plans and am now laying down with a blanket and a book and my cat watching the leaves dance outside the window. 

I know why I'm sad, at least partially the cause, but I'm at a loss as to why it's effecting me so intensely in this moment. 

So there's no way to prevent it or even anticipate it. 

Because it has a life of its own. 

That's the difference. 

Sadness can be controlled and understood. 

Depression breathes its own chaos without any effort on your part. 

And I fucking hate it. 

I don't currently have a solution except to give in when it gets like this.

Cancelling my plans, though it wasn't what I wanted, did have a calming effect, so I guess the cancellation was what the depression wanted. 

I feel almost like I could name it, my depression.

And it would be a him, because it feels so very unfamiliar to me another female would never cause me such consuming confusion. 

And then to cause even more lack of understanding, I feel angry.

Angry for feeling so profoundly unhappy.

So I feel unmotivated and have only the energy to lay on this couch and then some other part of me resents me for giving in. 

Like I've failed and lost some war and while the depressed part of me is grateful to only lay here the angry part of me shakes its head in disgust and wonders why I don't get up and fucking do something. 

So I can't win. 

This war in my mind pulling me in conflicting directions. 

This self doubt and disgust and confusion. 

And all I want to do is sleep.

Sleep and dream of times where my mind was balanced, when I could wake up and have the day I'd planned instead of waking up blind from the amount of water pouring from my eyes. 

And I don't know what to do. 

I don't know which part of my mind I'm supposed to listen to. 

Who to give in to. 

And that only adds to the exhaustion of such confusion. 

No wonder people who are depressed are always so tired. 

We never get a break from ourself. 

Our contradictory, chaotic, inconsistent self.

Happy Sunday, indeed.