Welcome To The Bitchery
Welcome To The Bitchery

I've been really up and down lately. I've suffered from depression before, but that always starts with a period of apathy and laziness, followed quickly by a guilty realization that I'm tricking people into thinking I'm any good at anything and feeling humiliated at what people must think privately about me, and then the actual depression where I just... don't even want to go into it. This can all happen in a day or it can all happen over a few months, like it did in my final year of university. Sometimes there is a reason, most of the time there is not.

Today, I felt like I was in a good mood, but I could feel anxiety and embarrassment creeping in from the corners of my mind. I tried to warn my boyfriend about it. He was sympathetic, but tired and stressed himself, and in all honesty probably bored with it all - it's tough living with a depressed person after all. "Is there anything worrying you?" he asked.


"Money, I guess?" I shrugged. "I don't know. Not really."

"Is it me?"

"Of course not," I replied, irritated.

"You know you can always tell me."

"Yes, I know," I snapped. I was sick of explaining that sometimes there wasn't a reason, that it's chemicals in the brain, that it's maybe handed down by my mother, that I've had these moments since puberty and maybe earlier, with all sorts of different contexts and levels of stress. And he always nods and says he understands and he sees the research, but it's still hard for him to full understand because who would? That's the painful beauty of mental disorder and abnormality - if people could understand it, it wouldn't be abnormal.


We watched the history boys, and I got upset at the student-teacher thing and became tearful. "Did I miss something?" I asked. "Why is that acceptable?"

"Why does a film have to be moral?" he asked. When I looked enraged, he apologized and said "I shouldn't have shown it to you when you're feeling so sensitive."


He might as well have told me that I was due my period. I was so enraged, yet a tiny part of me thought "he's probably right." I stormed off to the bathroom, and had a bath. It's two hours later and we haven't spoken yet.

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