Stupid

Everything right now is unpredictable. One minute I'm numb, the next minute I'm bawling, the next I'm expecting him to walk through the door and then I'm furious and it all leads back to crying in the end. It's ridiculous. This whole situation is ridiculous. A stupidly healthy, vibrant and lively man is not suppose to collapse. A face that smiled as widely as his should not exist in memories and pictures only. A strength and determination like his should not be defeated by something as stupid as a mass of veins. I haven't even begun to try to wrap my brain around how stupid and ridiculous and unfair all of this is.

I sound so immature right now, don't I? I sound immature and selfish. I am immature and selfish. That's what grief is. It's a selfish emotion that draws you inward and forces you to realize what you've lost and what you'll never regain. Everyone says to think of the good times and the memories, but you have to reach a certain point before that really does anything for you. You have to work against your biggest and worst enemy, your own self, to reach a point where you can do that. At least, I do. My mind is my biggest obstacle. My thoughts are the key pieces in my own spiral toward destruction.

I've spent most of my life fighting against myself. When you deal with depression, you spend most of your time fighting a war to win even a semblance of a functional life. Back in June I had finally freed myself from the shackles of anti-depressants. It was a huge victory for me, as I had spent more of my life on medication than off. The stigmas that come with needing an anti-depressant caused me so much grief growing up, and I hated myself for needing them, hated them for being needed. Getting off of them, I finally felt....normal. I felt like I finally wasn't broken anymore. I could function without them, I could get through things without them. I was finally sleeping like a normal person. That in itself was a huge accomplishment. It is something that I've always struggled with and I was absolutely thrilled that I no longer needed to take 3 Tylenol PM to even consider falling asleep, and that I woke up on my own before 5 pm the next day.

I don't sleep anymore. Getting out of bed is a challenge, and doing anything is a chore. I don't want to, I have no interest in moving. I make myself though. I force myself to put one foot in front of the other and continue. It sucks, and I hate that I have to fight this battle all over again. It's exhausting and stupid. That word keeps coming up, doesn't it? Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

It's really the only word that sums it up though. It sums up everything.