I wish I could explain depression to people who don't have it.

My husband understands, sort of. We're hanging in there until I can get my meds adjusted.

It's not sad. Sad has a reason. It's like this sweet voice power. - I should really get stuff done today, like dishes, and laundry - and then [i] Nah, snuggle in that blanket, take a nap. [/i] -but I slept well last night - [i] sleep anyway [/i]

it's not lazy...it's just not wanting to do anything. Not even fun things. Like a giant blob of darkness grasps around me and I can't fight it. I just watch the world pass by.

When I go to work, I smile. People think things are fine. What are you going to tell them? I have done anything in a week because I feel bad. Then they ask why. The reasons I produce are just...they then seem stupid. I tell people why I'm upset, when I cry...I don't do that anymore.

I don't want to exist sometimes. I don't want to die, I just want to disappear. Like a vacation. Which you can't just randomly do for an indifferent period of time, and you can't enjoy a real vacation if you feel this way. You probably couldn't set it up, not being able to get everything done.

I don't want to pay $800 a day just to shuffle around, playing puzzles with missing pieces, not shaving because I don't want people to watch, nurses peeking in with flash lights, while you try to sleep on uncomfortable bed. I don't need that.

My pdoc is busy. A doctor quit so he has to cover at the hospital and take on some extra patients. Even if you go to his office saying you're suicidal, they can't get you in for two weeks. I was squeezed into the first week of July, the next appointment is August. You can't call the crisis people, they send you to the psych ward.

I'll get by. I'm here. That's a long way.