Yesterday, I got bitchslapped with a wave of sad. And of course, for absolutely no reason; the worst thing that happened yesterday was that Sims crashed while saving 0h teh noes, the horror).
The thing is though… I can feel the sad. I can taste the sad. It’s as if a wave of Chemical Sad was released into my system, flooding it with its gellid jelly bitter flavour. It’s coating my tongue, it’s flooding my veins, and I just have to say – how in the flying fuck is someone supposed to stop that? Applying logic and CBT is a bit like trying to get by on a sailboat made of rice paper — said boat is buried and subsumed under (and melted by) the hormonal/chemical/what the fuck-all assault. It’s sort of definitely lame.
Don’t worry — I’m not giving up, even if it’s totally tempting to climb into a hole and pull the hole in after me. I’d be lying if it said it wasn’t effecting me though; while I might have turned out another crochet hat last night, the thought of doing proper chores is hitting a blank wall of [[not happening]]. It’s that stage of things where I find myself trying to drag myself onward and upward, but the walls are too slick and my nails are too short (because my brain freaked out and insisted to make them all go away by any means possible; all the joys of self-sabotage).
Back to trying to get some blood out of my caffeine stream (my attempt to get a bit of extra sleep backfired last night and now I feel like semi-zombie hell), and trying to make myself do something useful, like fold the laundry from *coughtwoweeksagocough*.