
Take a moment and think about everything you carry on your shoulders, how much added weight you give yourself, and how much of it is a burden that you only carry because you

Saddest Snowman in the Snowfield... at least it's not a billion degrees where he lives.
I create my sisyphean tasks. I’m not sure if I should say it’s because there is some part of me deep down inside me that absolutely hates the idea of succeeding at anything that matters to me. I don’t want to say that, because it’s giving power to some little voice I can’t quite quell. I try to stand above all that self-doubt, but I’ve built up that pile of burden so high on my shoulders I can’t help but be weighed down into that mire. I might not ever be able to fully remove the emotional baggage that I’ve clung to with the neurotic compulsion of clinical hoarders, but I’m trying to let things go if I can’t keep going with them.
I am bad with Money
I’m keeping my head above water. It takes some work at times, but I’ve been successful in that. I should let myself off the hook a little about the past mistakes I’ve made with money, and stop accusing myself of being useless when it comes to handling it. I’ve gotten better, and continue to improve. I should be proud of what I’ve learned and what I’ve been able to do with eliminating debt and building a bit of savings. I shouldn’t let money pull me down.
I am meant to be Alone
I have amazing friends. I love them, and I’m very glad that they have supported me through some seriously skanky depression. I love the community of writers I’ve met online, and am endlessly thankful that I can get up every morning and read something inspiring and powerful. I need to admit to myself that I do need other people in my life, and I need to let myself feel like I’m worthy of having other people in my life. I’m not alone, I don’t have to be alone, and I wasn’t designed for it.
There is something wrong with me.
Imagine it’s the dawn of humanity, and all the ape doctors were making fun of Australopithecus because his spine was straight. They’d be all “We need to correct this with medication and a back brace.” They’d be wrong because doctors are incredibly stupid. Just because my brain doesn’t pump chemicals in the same way doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with me. It probably means I’m awesome and everyone else sucks. Besides, being depressed about being depressed is a pretty sick cycle dude.
Medicine is for Old dying People and those with No Self Discipline
Ok, maybe my rain is awesome, and I should celebrate my mutant chemicals, but that doesn’t change the fact that it is getting harder and harder to control where my mind goes. Next stage of human evolution or not, being depressed sucks dolphin testicles, and there are things out there that can help me. Of course then I would have to face the fear that doctors are all evil, alien, cyborgs sent to Earth to implant diseases in humans.
There’s just too much evidence supporting that claim, though.
I’m not good enough to do This
It takes time to be great at anything, and considering my track record of being a little bit of a slow study when it comes to mastering something new, I shouldn’t expect myself to be the greatest blogger in the world less than a year into trying it. Not really knowing who I am yet is also just part of being in my twenties.
Part of that anxiety comes from the fact that I should have conquered the world by now. Literally, I should be leading the entire planet as your all-powerful God-King, and instead I’m just sitting here, eating some spicy chicken Nuggets from Wendy’s. Nothing worth doing is fast and easy though. I just have to keep trotting along on the path of unbelievably long and excruciatingly painful. Eventually I’ll get it down.
Somethings you have to keep carrying though.
Keep taking care of yourself, physically, mentally and spiritually.
When you’re feeling depressed, it’s okay to just listen to some 90s Alt-Goth and write about the darkness of your rainy soul miasma. The Smiths can be incredibly cathartic, and everyone enjoys bad emogoth teen poetry.
If you feel like a giant fatty, climb the stairs at work instead of the elevator, of course, if you don’t feel like a giant fatty, climb the stairs at work instead of the elevator, but this time do it excitedly.
Really, Life is about your frame of mind.
Tags: compulsion, Depression, emotional baggage, little voice, Reverb10, Reverb11, self doubt