mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Birch trees)
[personal profile] mousme
When your parents solicitously ask you how you're feeling? They can tell you're depressed, but they don't really want to know.

I hate playing this game. It's the "you-never-tell-me-anything-but-whenever-you-say-something-I-stop-listening" game.

If I tell them I'm depressed, they don't want to hear it. It's not that they're not concerned, and it's not that they don't love me. They just find it too painful to listen.

So I don't tell them.

But I'm not especially good at hiding things, so they can tell that I'm not telling them something, so they get their feelings all hurt because I'm not confiding in them.

*kicks wall*

Frikking Catch-22.

I really wish these meds would work the other way, too. They keep me from being hypomanic, but they don't seem to be able to prevent the depression from creeping back every now and again.

Why is mania so much easier to prevent? It's so much more fun than the depression. I could use some abnormally high spirits right about now...
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mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Default)
mousme

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