Realization

So today I found out I'm not crazy. I'm not just lazy. I'm not self-indulgent or exaggerating (or, probably not that much, anyway). I am not making things up. ...I am depressed.

Like, as in, textbook, real-life, some-serious-shit actual medical depression. This is what I have.

No wonder I thought I've been losing my mind! I sort-of did. Lose. The me that lives inside my head. (Isn't it scary that one's brain can actually become damaged by internal directives -- no outside events or physical traumas required? I heard the explanation about neurotransmitters today, and what I think about that right now, is that I have somehow wrecked my brain's ability to listen to itself. Not on purpose, of course. But still. Somehow this thing has happened to me, and right now I have a, literally, damaged brain.)

It makes perfect sense in my need-for-logic way. I have been floating along, going Casper in my own life, while I know my head is not functioning properly. I couldn't figure out how, exactly, I was different if I looked the same, talked the same, acted the same. But it's so very, heartbreakingly true: I have not been the same.

Not the same, in so, so long.

Now I just feel tired. Tired and bereft of energy for the climb out of this pit.

I hope I'm up to it. I do. Because I really miss that girl I used to be. She was nice. And funny. And her husband really, really loved her.

I hope somebody loves this girl. She needs that much.