Depression Can Kiss My Fat Black Ass

I am depressed.

I have been feeling it for the last few months, but I figured as long as I was pumping out blog posts, then I was doing okay. I wasn’t really depressed, if I was still getting the work done, right?

That’s what everyone says, and I know this because I’ve talked to a lot of people about their own depression, and that’s what they all say. “As long as I was accomplishing my goals, then I couldn’t possibly be depressed.”

But I am depressed, and the thing is that I don’t have anything in particular to be depressed about. My life is pretty good, I get to sit and work at home, I get to write for a living, I get to create podcasts.

The thing is, that with the way that I am feeling right now, I am doing the work, and doing the right steps, but it’s like I am doing it automatically. “This has to get done before I can do that, so I do this, and then I do that, and then the next thing.”

Without really thinking about it.

I feel like my heart just isn’t in the work, and I want it to be, I genuinely want to be having fun having these conversations, but I can’t remember the last time I just felt light and relaxed. I feel tensed all the time, and I feel this heavy weight of guilt, and I don’t know where it’s coming from.

I think the guilt, and the shame that I’ve been feeling comes from being abused and speaking out about that abuse.

I was taught that you don’t speak out about anything, you keep your head down and your mouth shut, but that’s not just it. It’s certainly part of it, but that’s not the thing that’s bothering me the most lately.

It’s a genuine chemical imbalance in my brain that is causing this depression, although I haven’t been diagnosed with it, I know that’s what I am experiencing because I have been here before and it feels the same.

I am a very talented person with a lot of potential that could, if harnessed properly, lead me to a career in television or radio one day, that’s the hope anyways. I understand that there is a lot that I am capable of learning, but the problem is that I’ve reached the limit of what I am capable of doing alone, and I am worn out.

As much as I love writing every day, and as much as I love creating the podcast, it is really expensive being a creator when you don’t have funding behind you to help push you forward.

It’s not just a matter of paying the bills – although those are starting to mount up with having to pay for my podcasting and website space, as well as pay for editing software, but more than that it’s the validation that what I am doing actually matters to people.

The fact that little to no money is coming through the door is not that big a deal right now, though I still haven’t been paid for my book because I haven’t sold enough copies yet, it’s the fact that I genuinely need the attention of others that bothers me.

I made a choice a long time ago to cut people out of my life when they no longer served my higher self. I am talking about people who deliberately set out to hurt me, or who lied to me, or who struck me down when I was already feeling low.

Those kinds of people that take rather than give, so I’ve been alone for a long time, and while I am not lonely persay, I am starting to wonder about my choices and whether or not I’ve made the right ones.

Quitting my job four or five years ago was absolutely the best decision that I could have made for myself, but I am starting to wonder if perhaps I should have just gone back to school or gotten another nine to five job working in addictions.

Then I remember that I was fucking miserable doing that job, because I was literally surrounded by death every single day. For every person that we saved or helped teach to save themselves I should say, three or four more other people died due to drug addiction, homelessness, and poverty.

I am in a far better head space than I was five years ago, but I am also incredibly stressed about the fact that I worry every night about my future. Because so much of my childhood, teens, and early twenties were about sexual assault and rape, it’s hard for me to believe that I am never going to be sexually assaulted again.

I worry about this deeply every day, it is a profound fear, and is the single most reason that I have no interest in getting into a relationship or dating right now. I am scared, and while no one in the world who knows my full history would blame me, I worry that this fear is never going to go away.

I worry that I am going to be too afraid to move on, and I genuinely think that this is where the depression comes from.

This fear has caused a serious lack of zest for life, I think part of it is knowing that I can’t afford to “escape” my current situation. Monetarily and emotionally, I just have no where to go that doesn’t remind me of some sort of tragic or horrible event in my life.

I feel stuck.

That’s precisely what it is, I know that every day of my life is different, but the days just aren’t different enough to keep me interested. I am starting to feel like I am living in a Groundhog day like film set, and nothing is changing and I just don’t have the energy to make the changes that I need to make, to break the cycle.

I am too fucking tired.

I feel like there are leaches all over my body, sucking out the air from my lungs, and the spirit from my soul every day. Tiny metaphysical leaches that are taking every ounce of positive energy that I have, and feeding their own malicious intents as they work together to destroy me.

I’m that kind of depressed, and I don’t know what to do about it.

Sending all my love,

Devon J Hall