The private thoughts of one among millions.
I use my depression as a crutch.
I suffer from Post-partum anxiety and depression. There are days that I don’t want to do anything. Not even get out of bed. I don’t even want to bother eating. It’s all just. . . too much effort.
And, since my diagnosis, I use it as an excuse. On those days, instead of pushing through and doing what needs to be done anyway (like I used to), I instead do as little as possible and blame it on the depression.
Also, I don’t think the meds are helping. But I also know that people who are depressed think that the meds aren’t helping, even when they are. So, I keep taking them anyway. Really, I hate medication, as a rule, and try to take as little of it as possible. I hate side-effects, and I’d like to think that my body knows how to function on its own. Unfortunately, it doesn’t. If it weren’t for medication, I wouldn’t be a functioning human at this moment. Allergy meds and a daily inhaler control the life-threatening asthma. Zoloft to control the crippling, paralyzing panic attacks. Birth control to make my monthly cramping sessions bearable enough that I don’t pass out from the pain.