The First Rule of Fight Club is You Don't Talk About How Fucking Depressed You Are

I am so depressed. So depressed in fact that I am pretty sure that I have lost my funny somewhere between the feelings of overwhelming hopelessness and the numbness that has taken over my body. I'm sorry to whomever is reading this hoping for a good laugh today, which actually makes the assumption that
1. anyone actually reads this and
2. should someone read this they actually find it funny.
So, it's been coming on for a while now. I've been fighting it like a scene from Fight Club where Ed Norton kicks his own ass, but here it is. I wake up this morning, and its fucking ugly face is staring right at me. What in the hell is wrong with me? I mean, MA likes to point out on a pretty consistent basis that it is a beautiful day, I have a good job, friends who care about me, a fantastic girlfriend, etc... so what in the hell do I have to be depressed about. I ask myself this now. Honestly there are times when I don't have an answer, and even now I don't fully understand it but I do know that something was triggered the day I heard about my mom. I can't seem to get myself to deal w/ whatever emotion that has set off inside of me. Even now as I am typing this I am getting tight in my chest, fighting the tears, telling myself to suck it up and get over it. It is what it is. I hate that I say that now..."It is what it is." What in the fuck does that even mean? It's a little phrase I picked up from my time w/ Brooke. In some ways, it makes sense to me...you know, stop trying to change the unchangeable. Focus on what you can control. I seem to use it as a way of avoiding. Whatever, I am not making any sense today. I feel so totally outside of myself right now. My whole body feels tight and numb at the same time. I am on the edge of tears, yet they refuse to fall. There is a weight on my chest like a stack of bricks that is getting heavier by the second. I am anxious. I am tired. I am lonely, but I want no one around me. I hate myself for this. Hate myself. How am I supposed to be a good girlfriend, a good friend, a good person, a good employee, good to anyone when the thought of moving from this bed seems like too much for today. Just totally too much. Maybe if I sleep a little longer I will wake up feeling refreshed...or...maybe I won't wake up at all. I refuse to be like my mother and sleep to avoid it. She has been sleeping for 20 years and clearly that is not working for her. I look in the mirror and don't recognize the person I see. It is hard to even look at this person. It's not me. I hate the girl in the mirror. She is pathetic and fat and miserable and ugly and undeserving of anything good in the world. Normally this is a secret I keep. I hold it..hide it. The thought of posting this is terrifying to me. What will people think? I'm sure that many of you see this as a cry for attention. I assure you that it is not. I actually feel nothing but shame for the way I am in this moment. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want you to ask me about it. Somehow I am hoping that by putting this shit out there, that I will release myself from it. Relieve myself of some of the pain and shame. My fear is that certain people will read this and realize how pathetic and fucked up I truly am, and they will disappear. I am too much to handle. I can't even handle me right now. My Effexor has been doubled and a lovely side of Xanax has been added. This is not working. I am still FUCKING SAD and STRESSED...and maybe a little sleepier. Awesome. Just T-Totally fucking awesome. Finally, let me end by saying that if you read this and it causes you to worry about me, please don't. Please don't worry, the thought of causing someone else stress, sadness, anxiety, any negative feeling at all is almost too much for me to take. This too will pass. I promise.