#79/19: Living with yourself

This week has been a hard “me” week — well to be honest, it’s been a hard “me” year, but it seems like this week has been harder than all the rest. Maybe because I’ve been writing fluff so people reading this don’t think that I’m chronically depressed (I am) or that I don’t do anything to solve my problems (if it were only that easy) or that I’m on the pathway to being “better” (I’m not). I’m less than the person I want to be. I’m working on getting to be that person, but I’m inpatient and its hard. I’m also in a relationship, so I’m dragging my partner along for the ride. I’m not happy. I’m angry. I’m sad. I’m tired of being all three. The word depression doesn’t even begin to describe what my problem is. There are no words, probably. Medication doesn’t help. Nothing helps. Just living with yourself everyday, learning to be more open, more compassionate, more forgiving.