Not a surprise

Jesse mentioned the other day that I seem to be depressed. As I was feeling physically well that day, I quipped "What do I have to be depressed about?"

Which...duh. Took me a few seconds before I realized the ridiculousness of my response. The topic had come up because I'd asked him what it was about showering when depressed that is so...overwhelming. Like, even at my worst, the litterboxes get scooped out, the house gets clean, the errands get done. But personal hygiene just goes out the window.

And as of late, even as I am feeling physically revived, I can only drag my carcass into the shower once a week...if (embarrassingly) even THAT. I go days and days wearing the same pajamas. I can go days without brushing my hair. That sort of thing.

Winter has always sent me into a depression. It's as reliable as clockwork - the temps start dropping and the sun goes away and BAM, you automatically have a depressed Teressa. Spring rolls around and BAM, you have an automatically UNdepressed Teressa. But spring is months away and the last several months have added stone upon stone onto the regular depression.

Sunlamps will make it worse because Hey, Lupus! Apparently the light triggers the production of more bad cells, which can cause any numerous amounts of flares. I really, really, REALLY do not want to add anymore medication to my list, even if they are psych meds. (To which I usually feel safer fucking with, though only because I've got more practice dealing with psych meds rather than medical need meds.) Cats and nail polish can only carry me so far.

I try to reassure myself that this is totally normal for me. I KNOW winter will bring depression. I KNOW I'll have a hard time showering. I KNOW, way, way, far ahead of time, that I will be depressed. It's not like it creeps up on me as a surprise.

But as I always curse GI Joe - yes, knowing is "half" the battle. But then there's the other half to contend with, and I'm not very good at battling depression. I usually just curl up under the blankets and wait it out, month by month.

One new thing I've been trying to use to combat the depressed/not showering phenomenon: Jesse and I will sometimes shower together. It's not a sexual thing for me (as I have, like, no sex drive at all), but it IS intimate. It feels as if half the burden of showering is being shouldered by Jesse, which makes it an easier endevour.

Small victories. Every shower is a victory.

I'm trying not to ignore emails or food lists, Disgruntled and Franklaungage. Stream of conscienceness seems to be the only thing I can kick out, but I haven't forgotten.

This entry was originally posted at