For those not in the know, depression, for someone who has a mental health problem, is like a slippery floor. You're constantly walking across it, trying not to slip. You know that if you slip on the depression floor, you're going to go sliding out of control on it.
Welcome to my depressed life.
For someone used to dealing with depression, it takes a series of slips before you fall on your face to the depression floor. In my case, those slips are generally shit I've been dealing with for a long time that refuses to change. My nephew is here and he's using every god damn tool in our set and leaving messes everywhere. Right now, he's more concerned with cleaning up the neighbor's yard than clearing out the mess he's made of our back porch or shed a week ago.
What gets normal people angry triggers a nuclear strike on my fragile emotions. I had to take a klonopin because I'm having a not so fresh feeling between my ears. Throw in allergies, laundry, and this need to finish dinner, and I'm just a big ole ball of sunshine. Real sunshine, that radiation death ray that would roast the flesh from your bones in seconds if you got too close.
Teehee.
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