I woke up today convinced it was Wednesday. Then, I thought, “Wait, I have to write my post on health and wellness. Did I fuck up yesterday?” Then I checked my clock, and, no, it wasn’t Wednesday–it was Tuesday. This time change has really fucked me up. I don’t know why as I normally don’t have a problem with it. For whatever reason, it’s been messing with my head this year.
My nose is simultaneously running and stuffy. I’m incredibly tired and for the first time in a long time, last night as I was lying on the couch, I wished I were dead. Not enough to do something about it, but it was there.
Side Note: I have spent much of my life not wanting to be alive. I’m used to it, and it’s not alarming. Really. It’s just a part of me the same way I like to read and I like swords is. I have no desire to be alive, but, and this is the important bit, I don’t WANT to die. At least not for the most part. When I was in my twenties and thirties, I did want to die when I was in my severest depressions. There were a few times I actively worked towards that goal (most of the time, it was passive such as not wearing a seat belt).
It’s something that I rarely talk about because what’s the point? It would just make people feel bad, and there isn’t anything they can do about it, anyway. I also don’t necessarily see it as a bad thing. It’s not a good thing, mind you. It’s just a thing. I wake up. I brush my teeth. I don’t want to be alive. I know it sounds dramatic every time I say/write it, but it’s pretty mundane to me by this point in my life.
When I slide from not wanting to be alive to wanting to be dead, though, that’s cause for concern. There’s no rational reason for it, but depression isn’t rational. We all know that. I can tick off all the reasons why I should be happy to be alive or at least neutral about it, but it means jack and shit to the weasels in my brain.
I just can’t today. I just can’t.