Depression is Shitty

Oh look, I am doing that thing where I randomly disappear from the interwebs with no warning and then later randomly reappear with just as little warning, that I seem to always end up doing. I feel like this makes me a bad blogger. Like, if I’m going to take a break from blogging, I should tell people that I am going to take a break, instead of randomly disappearing. But, well, I’ve done that enough times with enough things on the internet over a long enough period of time that it kind of just seems like a thing that just happens whether I want it to or not.

I’m sure the whole recurring major depression thingy doesn’t really help with that either. I am tired of that. I wish it would just go away. It makes life be harder and less rewarding and generally suck more. And is there ever going to be a time when I am not at least a little depressed? And I still hate calling it depression, though I don’t have anything else to call it right now. I’m not sad godsdamnit. Tired, easily stressed out, lacking motivation, stuff like that, yes, but not sad.

But for once, I am actually managing to kind of sort of maybe a little actually function. I may only be taking two classes this semester, but I am acing them. And then during the weekend sometimes I just collapse. Like today. Today was bad. And I did sooo awesome for the actual productive part of the week too. I went to all of my classes, and I did all of my homework, and I am really good at math, and I even got some of my assignments done way ahead of time, and I actually managed to wake up before noon several days in a row.

And then this morning I had the most horrible fucking dream ever. Usually I have good dreams, or neutral ones, or just interesting ones, or, in the worst cases, boring ones, and I am so happy that I can remember at least parts of them every day when I try. Sometimes when life is really shitty, my dreams are such a nice place to get a break from life being shitty, even if my dreams aren’t always rainbows and puppies (that would be incredibly boring if they were, anyway). I don’t even really mind when I have those dreams where your teeth fall out or stuff like that. At least it is interesting, and it really is such a nice relief when you wake up and realize you still have all of your teeth, and I’ve had them often enough that the last time that happened, I was like, wait… teeth falling out… this is a dream isn’t it? And then I had a lucid dream and that was totally fun.

But I digress. This morning I had the most horrible fucking dream ever. I was in English class, and I corrected my teacher when she used the wrong name and pronouns for me, but she wouldn’t use the right ones, and I was in trouble, and I wasn’t sure why; I’d been five minutes late to class and maybe I was too noisy or something, but I didn’t think I’d done anything she should be that mad about. She gave me a list of things I had to do, like bake cookies for the class, or I couldn’t come back. And then the person from the office was using the wrong name and pronouns, too, and I kept correcting them, and they just made it seem like *I* was the person doing something wrong. They said we needed to work on my “personality defects”, like I need to start being a ‘good’ trans person like that other person over there who doesn’t correct people (and is further along in her transition and actually passes). And then when I was walking away I kept thinking how unfair it was, the conditions my teacher put on my coming back to class and the condescending way she talked to me, and how I would have to do it anyway because I can’t afford to fail English again, but that didn’t stop me from ripping up the list in the mean time, even though I knew I’d have to pick up the pieces and put it back together later. And then I was talking to someone who should understand why I was so upset, and she couldn’t even see why any of that was wrong. And that was the worst thing, that no one else would even see why it was wrong for people to keep calling me the wrong name and then act like I’m the one being rude when I protest!

I woke up then, and I was relieved that it was dream, and that I’m not actually taking English (I already passed that one last semester), but I was still so upset from the way that made me feel. And it’s not really just a dream when I keep being so afraid of stuff like that happening in waking life (even though people are cool about things the vast majority of the time), and then I have a flashback to the time something like that did happen in waking life, and I’m not as over that stuff with fucking Alice as I thought I was, and I hate that, and I hate her, and I’m so glad I will never have to speak to her again, ever. And it was really awful of her to just say, bluntly, to my face, that I should just not correct her ever, and then tell me some stupid story about some poor cousin who couldn’t get his relatives to stop calling him by a nickname for years, and go on and on about how I should be understanding, at a time when I was trying to fucking bend over backwards to be understanding, but she couldn’t deign to consider how her using the wrong name and pronouns could possibly hurt me.

So…. yea. Today has been shitty. And it is so weird to be productive and on top of things (or schoolwork, at least, if often nothing else) and, dare I say, happy, on some days of the week, and then on others to barely make it out of bed before 4 or 5 pm because I just don’t feel like bothering to get up, and then do pretty much nothing all day. And it almost feels like a betrayal for something shitty like that to taint the refuge of my dreams. Dreams mean so much more to me than it seems like they do to most people. I care about them, enough to want to remember them, enjoy them, even treasure them, and it seems so wrong that it should be a dream that makes me feel so shitty.

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