Not as Miserable as I Sound

For anyone who actually read my last post, or my blog in general, I just wanna let you all know that I'm not actually as miserable as I sound. Yes, I have depression. Yes, just getting up everyday takes a tremendous amount of effort. But I'm not miserable every second of every day.

My entire life when I've had a journal I've had the same problem. I write when I'm stressed, or frustrated, or miserable. And I rarely write when I'm happy and contented. So it looks like my life copmletely sucks. I've just never had an internet read my journal before. So I'll try to write more positive posts.

I did eventually get back to sleep yesterday. And I slept for a whole 17 hours. Felt great afterwards. Still do. I've been up all night technically (woke up at midnight), but I've gotten quite a bit done. I feel productive. I like feeling productive. One of my OCD things is writing lists. Obsessive lists. Lists of everything. The biggest being to-do lists. Lots of them. So when I get to check things off that list, it makes me feel good. I've crossed off a few today, and even though there's still a bajillion things left on it, I feel good.

Of course, feeling good might have a little to do with the hot chocolate cobbler I just ate, but I've counted it in my daily points total, so it's even guilt-free chocolate cobbler.

My life really isn't that bad. I could sit here and easily list the bad things, and there are plenty of them. But if you read my blog at all, you know most of them already. You probably don't know many (if any) of the good things.

I'm talented. I forget it sometimes, but I am. If you look around my house there are dozens of examples of beautiful cross stitch and cute little crochet/knit creatures. And although I've got writer's block at the moment, I have files of some pretty good writing. And a shelf full of books that my poems have been printed in.

I may not be conventionally attractive, but I'm cute. I have a little button nose, and big bright blue eyes. And if you ignore the myriad of scars, I have lots of soft, smooth, clear skin.

I'm generous, and kind, and friendly (once I get past the crippling shyness and anxiety). I'm good with kids. I'm good with animals. I cook the most delicious muffins, and I have a few other recipes I excel at. Creamy chicken and corn chowder, anyone? Chocolate cream pie? I know a certain gentleman who'd eat three of my chocolate cream pies if it wouldn't make his stomach explode.

And I'm lucky. I don't always feel like it, but I am. I have a roof over my head, and food to eat. I don't live in an area where I need to worry about terrorists or war. I have water and electric and heat and clothes. A lot of the time I feel like my life is completely pointless and that it isn't worth living. I need to remember that there are so many millions and millions of people who have it a lot worse than me. I may have trouble finding the energy to leave the house, but I do have a house I can be agoraphobic in. And I can afford the chocolate cake to binge on.

I might not have a social life, or many friends, but I still have people I can talk to. I have two friends who have stuck by me throughout all the shit I dole out, and who don't mind my foibles. They haven't abandoned me when I ranted about them. They're still my friends, and sometimes it might take them a while to reply to messages, but they always do. One of them is just simply wonderful. I admitted some things I'd lied to him about, and he didn't bat an eyelid. He's kind, and friendly, and sweet. And even though he has a lot of his own troubles, he's always there to help me deal with mine. He walks into town centres to get my meds when I can't, even though he's feeling ill himself. I wish I could adequately explain to him how grateful I am that he's my friend.

I have two beautiful cats, even if they are completely cuckoo. They pee in the wrong places, and they scratch, and they run around the house making a racket while I'm trying to sleep. But they're cute, and affectionate, and funny, and they give little nose-kisses, and they're my constant companions. Without my pets I'd be even more insane than I am now. Right now Smudge is asleep on a box. Well, she's trying to sleep. Lexie is on top of her, chewing on her own tail. Smudge is staring at her, like she wants her to explode. It's quite cute to see.

I'm not always happy, but I'm quite often content. Right now I'm content. My butt hurts from sitting on this awkward chair for too long, but I'm content.

Just wanted to let the internet know I'm not always miserable and stroppy.