One thing that always helps me slink by is being able to laugh at things. Besides the British knack for self-depreciation, it helps put depression and its allies in its place if you can laugh at them. By the same token, one of my best friends and I often reflect on our ‘whining’ about minor things. We concur that, while silly, being able to complain about the trivial is a relief. It means there aren’t bigger things to complain about, or perhaps, are self-directed code to not let oneself get hung up on the big things. I know, sounds convoluted and weird, but such are the tricks one must use to get past the Killer Brain Thing™®.
I’m thinking a lot about this today because I’m trying to remember the tricks to keep myself in a passable fettle. I’ve exited the safety of my nest, and obviously, it takes its toll. It’s fair to say my brain and my body and its component chemicals make it abundantly clear that it would have been a lot nicer and less stressful to stay home. But yanno, I’ve been nesting for something like weeks now and I can’t give into it any longer. Even if I desperately want to, and still feel all sorts of depressed and wrecked. I just hope that I continue to not overdo it, ’cause yanno… want to get back to some sort of semblance of actually functional and whatnot.