Right, I’m back from my unofficial hiatus. Real life has been kicking my ass and the blog just fell by the wayside. I had posts composed about quotas for women, catholic church and plenty of NAMA but somehow I never had the time to put fingers to keyboard and articulate my opinions. Of course the cold black cloud of depression makes every single action that much more difficult.
People really don’t seem to get that. Depression is not just a word or a feeling. It covers and affects everything from not sleeping to the horrific nightmares my brain throws at me if I manage to fall asleep. Remembering to act normally takes effort and I do it because if I don’t then I lose all defences and am patronised by the person around me. Why just the other day, I answered a question honestly to a member of my family and was told I was disgusting. And from outside my head, I probably am but depression is between me and everything and it’s hard to care when I’m spiralling.
In other news, my brother has found dieting just like other people find religion. So now I am expected to just accept that he will talk at me about my health. Apparently I get too emotional and defensive when people comment on my body. Well yes I do. I live in my body. I know my body. It is me. I am it. I know what works and what doesn’t. I don’t take kindly to others informing in that I am fat. I know I am fat. I know why I am fat and I’m through justifying my fatness. I am the way I am. No discussion.
In short, my sister thinks I’m disgusting and my brother, overemotional.
Life sucks right now