What's Wrong With Me Today?

I’m just gonna go. OK. So… what’s wrong with me today?

I’ve reached that point where I feel bad about even thinking about my problems, much less complaining about them. Which is fine, I suppose, as I dislike hearing other people complain as much as anybody else. That’s not the same as listening to someone talk about what’s bothering them. But when it’s all the time and it’s over and over and over and, wait, that sounds awfully familiar.

If I’m complaining, though, who is it to, exactly? You? You’re nobody. No, I mean literally. Nobody’s reading this. And if you are, you’re kinda nobody - I’ll have no idea you’ve read this. Wow, this got way more meta than I had intended. Anyway…

Still, I tend to argue with myself, and it’s that same line you get when you talk to anyone about depression. “Oh, but so many people out there have it worse.” Well, yeah, no shit. But then I start telling myself that. I’m pretty lucky, all things considered.

All things considered. Don’t you actually kind of hate that phrase? Good radio program. Shitty phrase. All things considered. Yeah, I may be almost 50 and living with my parents (literally in the basement), with a daughter on the other side of the country I never get to see, and in a constant funk of depression that I not only can’t seem to shake but I’m not sure I even want to. But, all that shit considered, I’m doing all right.

Those aren’t phrases intended to make anyone feel better except for the person who says them. “Others have it worse” isn’t designed to make the person hearing it feel better. It’s intended to get the other person to shut up about it because you’re just not interested. “All things considered” is like that, except you’re saying it to yourself.

I don’t know if I’m doing this because I don’t want to seem or feel ungrateful - I mean, I’m lucky I have parents with a basement I can live in instead of on the street. No, I don’t get to see my daughter every day, but she’s living in a good area and has a good life. I know I have some form of bipolar disorder and can take care of it.

On the other hand, the way I look at it sometimes - yeah, other people do have it worse… and nobody seems to give a shit about them. Why should I expect anyone to give a shit about what I’m going through?

Neither of which answers the real question: how do I fix these problems? Because neither of those phrases comes anywhere close to doing that. Problem is, I’m still no closer to figuring that out than I was before, and just staying in bed feels way easier than trying to do that more and more each morning.

I don’t want to die. But enjoying life again would sure be nice.