This year in particular I have physically felt my sanity escape my brain.

The clocks went back as the days are already getting shorter and shorter. I didn’t even gain an extra hour of sleep. I was more tired and completely exhausted than in recent weeks. I have been so irritable and all I want to do is sleep. Even eating regularly is difficult. Red Bull and Starbucks have been my saviors.

Besides the overwhelming apathy, the desire to neither live nor die mixed with nihilism, and the intertwining of anger and despair and hopelessness, my other most hated symptoms include: The pressure in my head. The pounding in my ears. The splitting pain between my ears. The inability to focus on anything except my own pain and exhaustion. Every feeling is heightened then dulled. Every emotion is exaggerated then muted.

I have a very love/hate relationship with the sun. I prefer it cloaked behind thick clouds. I enjoy its warmth as I stay in the shade. I still want it there, just out of sight. I hate cloudless days. I also hate winter weather. I understand that I need the sun, especially as it is around less and less as the year wanes. I understand its role in my life. I watch helplessly as it peeks out less and less and the moon and her domain rule queen.

This year I have not hid or downplayed my struggles. My coworkers have noticed I am not smiling, I’m scowling more than normal. “You look tired.” I’ve heard that about three times this week. I just tell them. “Eh, I’m depressed.” And then my least favorite conversation starts up.

“Why are you depressed? Like what’s causing it?”

“My brain. I have depression.”

I’m done making excuses for it. I would rather be honest. Not to make others feel sorry for me. But to give a face to depression. It always amazes me how many people are surprised to learn I have it. It’s not just “I’m tired” or “oh I’m just having a bad day today.” One bad day doesn’t end up being 10 years long. Being tired doesn’t mean I want to sleep and never wake up.

I feel like the only times I’m truly happy is with my wife and friends. But at the back of my mind is the premature grief of one day losing them all. Maybe it’s the reminder that one day they won’t be here anymore and I truly will be sad and lonely. Maybe the desire to die first fuels my behavior and actions like eating poorly and refusing to exercise. Yet it’s contradicted by the fact that I enjoy living so much, when I can enjoy it. I love my wife and my cats and my coworkers and my family and being in nature, even watching the sun rise before I find shade.

I am hoping I can shake off this particularly bad bout of SAD, or seasonal affective disorder, but I am not very hopeful. Maybe I will be tomorrow or next week. Or next year. Just not today.


Pslams 113:3

3 From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets, the name of the LORD is to be praised.


Body vs Mind vs Mind vs Mind

Let’s be real here.

There is a lot “wrong” with me. I have anxiety, depression, IBS, and am obese. I get tired easily, often forget things, and suffer from brain fog. These symptoms can easily be from any of the ailments I endure. I find it difficult to eat properly, either from lack of energy to cook, lack of interest to prepare meals, or from the compulsion to engorge myself on fried/fatty/sugar laden foods that trigger all the right parts in my brain and bring me the emotional satisfaction I lack in my majorly-lacking serotonin life.

Every month of every year I yo-yo between struggling to do well and completely giving up for a few weeks. At least twice a year I “put my foot down” and say “enough is enough! I will finally do better!” I set myself up for success and then don’t follow through. Or it works for a week until I get hormonal or have a bout of anxiety, or just have no energy. I don’t want to do the dishes. I don’t want to prep food or make it. I just want to come home, waste my money on delivery, and eat foods that temporarily make me feel good again. Rinse, repeat.

I’m sick of lying to myself. I’m sick of pretending I will do better. I’m sick of attempting and failing. I’m sick of my own laziness and apathy.

I want to do better. I want to be better. I don’t know if I ever will be a better me in the very end, but I have to try. I don’t want to fully give up or in to the darkness I teeter on the edge of daily. I don’t want to be a lost cause to myself.

I continually try to flick a switch in my brain to turn me into a normal functioning adult who doesn’t feel stupid or lazy or incapable of simple tasks. Maybe if I want it hard enough I will get it. Accepting being mentally ill is my boulder to push up the mountain. And what a steep mountain she is. I see my online friends with the same issues I face. I see them triumphing, failing, falling, getting up. We all do it. Over and over and over again. Some of us get up more often–and faster–than others. But the point is we keep getting up, instead of lying on the ground. I need to stop lying on the ground and get my fat ass up.

This post is a mix of rant, call to action, calling myself out, admitting my faults, and lashing out at this version of me I don’t like. This is a reminder that tomorrow is always a new day for action, that I’m not alone, that I have plenty of love and support. I need to take the initiative, I need to act, I need to love myself no matter what and help myself be the best I can be.


7 For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline.

Going Great

I’ve been very happy lately. I’ve been on an upswing in nearly every aspect of my life since I was fired from my long-term job last year. I never realized just how much that job made me unhappy, and honestly looking back, I don’t think I was ever truly happy there. I went through a lot there, concerning my depression and anxiety. It was just too stressful and really fed into my illnesses as time went on, but even in the beginning it never truly filled me with much fulfillment or happiness. I had no plans of going anywhere in or with the company, yet I stayed for over half a decade because of how comfortable I was and how afraid I was to experience something new.

That aside, I have been really taking care of myself in ways I haven’t witnessed…ever, really. I’ve been taking care of my hair consistently; no more pulling it back or brushing it into a knotted and matted mess. I’ve been cleansing and moisturizing my face properly. I’ve been bathing properly and daily; no more half-assed every other day showers. When the tub is clean enough for my OCD, I’ve even been known to enjoy a hot bubble bath from time to time. I’ve been wearing makeup to work, trying everything from bright color combos to some natural everyday looks with some more everyday type of makeup on the way. I’ve been making more attempts to eat better. I limit my time on social media, drink more water, pray everyday, and all that other cliché shit they tell you to do to *~cure~* your problems.

But of course I don’t do it because I actually believe that it’s the root of my problems, but I do it because I am genuinely happy and want to do it. It definitely feels like a magic cure-all when you are happy and doing things that add to it, I must say. When you’re deep in the throes of your worries and mental issues, not only are these things sisyphean tasks, but they don’t help much at all. Sure, brushing your hair out and taking a nice bath can momentarily help you get a boost of esteem or confidence but it’s always fleeting.

Anyway I feel so #blessed (which I literally say out loud as “hashtag blessed” as a joke to my wife) lately, and I’m in a very good place, besides biting my nails to nubs again. Can’t do it all in one go, I guess!


Mark 12:30

30 Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’