declare spoil

something is wrong because I am blogging at this time of day



"i don't want to work anymore"
- oh no, i can't say that. gasp



Update:
I am still sick but I have gotten my antihystemines so I should be better really soon. But Telfast makes me sleepy. Not that I will be any less productive than I already am. Perhaps it really is time for me to go back to Rhinocort, used last in 2003/4 when I was first diagnosed with asthma. Calvin would suggest that I use his Nasonex.

Yes I am depressed, signs of which include: a disappearance in energy and motivation to do things - as if my usual tendency towards sloth is not already bad enough for productivity - work, housework, meals, going out of the house. I also perpetually feel tired, maybe from blowing my nose repeatedly. Sad songs about nothing at all, even those I can't understand audibly like Jay Chou - make me cry! And for what? News makes me sad, and I have no idea why the overwhelming hypocritical compassion surge. And yes I read the news a lot along with the 50 feeds I subscribe to. Daily.

I HAVE LOADS OF WORK TO DO.


Suddenly Cal shoots this at me: "Do you have faith in God, or not? Or do you think that he has no plan for you? Sometimes you forget."

Nobody likes to deal with depressed people, much less live with them. I don't mind because I know what it is like to be completely and utterly alone when depressed. (No, I am not blowing my own trumpet in saying so, please believe me). But Calvin, has learnt to deal with me despite the fact that he was looking for a happy girl, and I am tearfully thankful for that.

I don't know how to deal with this leh. I should have asked my doctor for Xanax.

Everything I used to do to help, somehow seems harder to do, and less of a help. Talking to friends, praying, writing (here and out of here), thinking. Chocolate helps marginally, and I am wary of addiction-forming help like alcohol.

One thing I might have to try doing, but I am afraid of, is confrontation. I scare myself under the guise of conflict, conflict, conflict. I have this silly belief that I am too problematic so I shouldn't deal with the problems I have with other people because it is a waste of time. Yes it is a waste of time. I am not quoting myself alone in saying that. Boys don't like to talk about serious things. I don't like to talk about my problems. I like to ask people about theirs, I like to offer help and comfort more than to share my own problems. Hence till now you might not even know what the hell I am talking about.

Anyway I am not depressed because something happened, I think I just have very poor conflict management skills and I am too repressive. Plus I fear challenges that I misbelieve I cannot handle. Am I taking on too much for my age? Many women at 27 are managers, they manage whole business units, they take crap from million-dollar clients. What I am doing is on par if not lesser in comparison. Plus I have a very capable co-worker - he said so before, that nothing is impossible for him. (What I meant to say after that last sentence was, that I should not pale in comparison. But I realise I do, and miserably so, and I feel consistently compared and find myself short and worthless. I am not professional in my dealings and I always, always make mistakes. I do not deserve the respect I do not have).

The last time I fell ill with depression was because of repression, and I am not going to allow myself to be that ill again. Three days, one week, is fine. Not one, two years. The years that disappeared from my life.

I wish time would stop.

I close my eyes and subconsciously I see a flood rushing behind me. I am either not there anymore or at all, else I am just stationery, like I am now.