Depression is like the dementors

I would not have said I’d do these devotions if I would have known how depressed I would be.  Yesterday I spent my writing time asleep.  I’m reading a bit, not cleaning, not spending time in spiritual pursuits, and remembering so many hurts, anger and time wasters.  Why did I ever even date him?  Why did I ever trust them?  How long will it be before she leaves me too?  How could they do this to their child?  To me?

In Harry Potter, the dementors suck out every happy thought.  Depression, for me, is like this too.  I can’t believe anything good about others, let alone myself.  I have so many grudges and I entertain them, center stage.

All that I’ve worked for, all that I care about will be gone soon.  It will be my fault.  I can’t stand up for myself, and it doesn’t bother me, unless it does bother me and then I feel like I’m in a pool of muck.

I haven’t been this bad in a while.


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