Motions

Depression: A Concept

One.

"Would you say you feel depressed?"

Of course I do. Who isn't? "I wouldn't say I'm depressed. That's for people who lay in bed all day, avoid others, and rarely find joy in things." So yes, me, I am those people. I do find joy in reality television though, and Friends.

She nodded and marked down the correct answer, I'm sure, as she did the thing where she bit her lip and shrugged just enough for me to see that she knew I was lying. I've been seeing her for about a year now and I'd say I have most of her usual body subtext down pact. Like when her eyes get real wide when I start to talk about the world being on my shoulders. Or her tone when she can tell I'm starting to daze off and not really pay attention to what she's saying. Not my fault I do that, I was a GT kid who was lead to believe I was extraordinary until puberty, where my 96%s just didn't cut it anymore.

"Lillian." There it was, I was not paying attention and she knew it. "It doesn't sound like you're quite getting what you want out of life."

What a first world problem - not getting what I "want" out of life. Shouldn't I just be happy to be alive - to be breathing in a relatively working body? To not be losing my teeth to meth and not under some highway? Shouldn't I be grateful? "I'm not. Right now, at least. I'd like to one day."

"Why does it sound like something you have to wait for?"

"Because I do?"

"Why are you working on it's time?"

"It" being the universe - my constant frienemy. My best frienemy. It's why I never get my hopes up about anything or expect a positive outcome from anything I do. I don't believe it until I see it - until it's coughed up a reward for my hard work that I've given it. I work on it's time constantly, considering I'm resenting it constantly. If I take action myself it'll slap me in the face for even thinking I could one up it. There's no chance in me winning against it, so I have to wait for it.

"I'm... not. Not exactly. I just have to work for it. Obviously I haven't worked hard enough for it. Otherwise I would be happy."

She gave me a counter argument, and I gave a shaky excuse back. That's how most of the session normally goes for the first half until I break down and tell her some childhood memory that I've never told anyone before. We'll have a brief break through and I'll feel somewhat brave for the rest of the day, until I forget everything we've discussed and revert back to my way of living life. Which I, for the record, do not recommend.

I walked out at 12:34 feeling a little refreshed and a little more reflective. I didn't get super philosophical when I get high anymore because that's what my Thursdays are for: reflection, progression, and self care. I checked my phone - my roommate had snapchatted me our bug ass neighbors tearing apart their couch in front of the yard. They were tearing out the underneath of their furniture as another neighbor approached them, threatening to call the police. Underneath that notification, my other girlfriend messaged me to let me know that she had filed yet another sexual harassment complaint against her supervisor, but to no avail as her HR lady was shacking up with him.

I drove home, looking at the world in a whole new light, just like I do every single week. I honked at everyone a little less, took an extra moment to look at the sky, and played some sort of positive podcast or uplifting girl power song. I drove my shitty little bug into our apartments and parked in my usual spot. I had considered stopping for Starbucks on the way, even though I did not need caffeine and was not hungry, but I decided to treat myself by saving that money for a day where I really needed to treat myself.