Logic vs Depression

I’m a logical person. I’m quite intelligent. In fact, I’m more than quite intelligent. I took a test with Mensa and I’m in the top two percent of the country. But I struggle with common sense.

For instance… I know logically that I am a useful person. In the past twenty four hours I’ve sewn some additions to my sister’s school bag, I’ve baked some (delicious) cookies, I’ve helped a friend sort out her benefits and do research for an essay…. Among many other things. And it’s not just the past day. I’m a useful person. I KNOW this, logically.

But I don’t feel it.

My depression is acting up today. Partly triggered by the headache I had this afternoon, I’m feeling weak and pathetic. I feel useless, unwanted, lonely, a waste of space.

The logical, intelligent part of me knows that none of those things are true. Since moving down here to Basingstoke I’ve encountered person after person who has given me nothing but support and encouragement, and praise and compliments. Mostly strangers… Friends of my mother. I can reel off a list of people I could call right now for a chat, to help me feel better. There’s a long list of things I could do to be useful. I am definitely not a waste of space.

But I could have the highest IQ in the world, and it wouldn’t work on my depression. I could have ten different people in this room hugging me right now. I could have witness statements from a hundred people telling me how useful I am. That wouldn’t make my brain accept it. It wouldn’t make me feel any better. It wouldn’t make my brain ease up.

I hate depression 😦


About Colette Horsburgh

A 30-something creator/baker/writer/doodler/crafter living with several (but not enough) scatty animals.
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