Conjoined Bitches

I looked in the mirror, and I saw a tiny blister. For me, a blister only means one of two things: stress or sickness. Well, this chica isn’t sick. So I began to analyze my stressors: work has been very hectic, my relationships, my house, finances. And then it hit me how stressed I really am. Stress has slowly, gradually, overwhelmed me. I forgot what it was like to not have it. I have become desensitized to the things that used to cause me stress, and they no longer bother me. But these new things, I am learning to cope with.


And that’s when it hit me.

My depression is linked to my stress—they are conjoined bitches. I have struggled with depression since I was 10. I felt the burden of the world on my shoulders as just a kid, as I worried about God, my parents dying, my parents’ finances, my sister kicking my ass, my mom’s disapproval, getting good grades, etc. I was always a deep thinker and a bit of an old soul. As I aged, my fretting seemed to worsen, until I finally found myself independent and desperately needing coping skills. And so, I have managed to face many fears, take a few light meds, change my outlook, and prove to myself that I can rise above so much of what life gives you. There is no longer a welcome mat on my door, inviting depression into my heart.

But lately, I have had waves of depression anyway—almost out of nowhere. Sometimes it hits during the day, sometimes at night. Sometimes it lingers for a few days, and sometimes not. But the truth is, I feel different physically when it hits. And this stupid blister brought me clarity since it hit when I was trying to analyze this latest depressive state---My depression is directly connected to my stress.

When I reduce my stress, I reduce my depression. So how do I do that? I have no clue. Not at this point. I can only do so much on my own. I can only afford so much, I can only give so much, and I can only be so much. My whole life, I have felt like “not enough” for anyone, any job, and any situation. Being with a man and his daughter, that “not enough” fear drowns me at times. It stresses me. It scares me.

I think getting my house in order will help. Physical chaos brings me mental chaos. And right now, my house is killing me. The disorder, the boxes, the aura, it’s all very chaotic.

Have I mentioned I’m a virgo? I like structure. I need it. It fuels me.