At best I would gloat and brag of my excellent mental health.  At worst, I could be condescending and downright vicious toward anyone else’s “supposed” mental instability. Then one day I’m in therapy, and my therapist suggests, after a straight six months of feeling flat and disinterested, that I could be depressed.

Nope, not me. I don’t feel sad. I don’t cry under warranted or unwarranted circumstances, I don’t feel suicidal. But I’m so tired and everything pisses me off (I can now relate to anger without enthusiasm). Things that I normally like to do are unappealing and all food tastes bland. I can’t concentrate, can’t remember anything short term and staying in bed is so much more appealing then talking to people. I’m bored with everything and look forward to nothing. Except going home and going to bed, I can’t sleep enough. Booze (that I suddenly can’t stand the taste of) and various non-prescribed chemicals help…temporarily, and then I feel worse. Continue reading →