I have Clinic next Monday, and one of the things I need to talk to them about is maybe upping my depression/anxiety meds. I’ve been having severe bouts with SadBrain lately, and while I have hella circumstances that warrant being sad, I don’t like being crippled by ennui just because a cat video looked at me wrong.
Last night, even though I KNEW BETTER, I watched a documentary about coral on Netflix. I knew it was going to deal with the devastation on our reefs caused by climate change, but I love coral and wanted some beautiful imagery. I wasn’t disappointed on either front, and when one of the guys involved with the project started crying over the devastation of his beloved corals, so did I. And I cried for a long time.
And I thought, not for the first time and CERTAINLY not the last, that I’m a little bit glad I’ll be dead sooner than later. I don’t want to live on this planet anymore. And I honestly couldn’t tell if that was SadBrain or Cynicism talking.
Either way, both them bitches need to shut up.
There’s a certain comfort I also have by knowing I won’t be here in 30 years, to endure more of this fucked up political climate and half of America embracing it. Whomever the next president, we’ll all still know half the country wants a Christian theocracy in which to hang their bigotry and homophobia.
My friend’s dad always says “in a hundred years none of this will matter,” when she’s obsessing over things. I love that line. Puts much into perspective.
Good luck on the clinic visit!
Jane
Hell, in TEN years, most of it won’t matter. It’s something I need to remember. My therapist reminds me often that I seem to stress the most over the things I have the least control over. But I will continue to take a sick comfort in knowing that it soon won’t be my problem at all. We take our comfort where we can get it, right? <3