I think the traditional notion of Sunday depression is that people feel it because they have to go back to work the next day. But I’m usually OK with that. Unless it’s a day like today. I don’t know why, all of a sudden, I feel so worthless. I didn’t feel worthless last week. Or most of the weekend. But today, after my boyfriend left this morning to go back home and do productive things like exercise, I found myself climbing back into bed and going back to sleep just because I couldn’t face the day.
When I feel depressed, I have an overwhelming sensation that I just don’t matter. I can’t believe that I’m in my 30s and I’ve ‘done nothing’ with my life. Today is one of those days. Other days, I know, I will feel as if I did accomplish something with getting a graduate degree and with other successes in my life/career, no matter how relatively small they may be. But today, all I can think about is the things I haven’t done. The stories I haven’t finished writing. The photos I haven’t taken. I start to feel sorry for myself and then angry with myself.
I was so depressed November/December. Before that I was hypomanic. A few weeks ago, I thought I was getting hypomanic again, but now this. Going off the Seroquel last week was maybe a bad idea. My doctor let me, but she also said it probably wasn’t the best time to rock the boat when I was doing so well. Now, as I sit here feeling so stupidly sorry for myself, I think I agree with her.