The Ironic Cycle of Depression

The first thing to go is self care, the last thing is always my family. This is my five stage cycle that is supposed to remind me I’ve fallen deeper and deeper into my depression. To remind me to seek intervention. I never listen.


The first thing to go is self care, my natural instinct to bathe and nourish my body fades into the background. It’s the easiest to give up, I work from home.  I stop going to my temple (the gym) and forget my meditation (my run). Therefore, I no longer need to shower as regularly. I don’t brush my teeth for days. It get’s too hard to remember those little things when there are other things that are more important.

The next thing to go is my OCD tendency to keep everything tidy and clean. It’s the weakest out of my many mental health issues. The laundry piles up, the dishes overflow from the sink, the dog hair covers the couch. I have to prioritize my strength, I’m getting so tired. I have furbabies that depend on me, foster babies who need me to thrive, they need me so that they can find their own strength, so they can become adopted. They don’t need a clean house.

The third thing to go, when I need it the most, is sleep. My insomnia flares up and takes over my body like a parasite. I lay in bed for hours and just pray and pray and pray that the melatonin or the Benadryl will take over and I will find some sort of release, if even for a few hours.  After a week goes by with only 2 hours a night of rest I lay awake in bed and wonder if I should  sell my firstborn to the devil to provide my body some peace.


The fourth stage, bring on the booze. Maybe I can drink myself into a slumber. Maybe I can drink enough to numb my depression and trick myself into taking a shower, clean the house, text back my friends. Each cocktail I make I hear my nana’s voice telling me “Alcoholism runs in our family you know”. I know nana, I just need one more drink to get me through this pain, through this day.

The final stage, my most most valued and cherished furkids. I. Am. So. Tired. I cannot stop crying. I don’t want to be the one that takes them outside, that feeds them, that plays with them. I just want to sleep and never wake up. I’m disgusted by my dirty house but have no motivation to clean it. I can’t tell you the last time I showered. I hate myself for not seeking help sooner but self care is the first thing to go.

-Bed Ridden Kelsey

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One thought on “The Ironic Cycle of Depression

  1. Pingback: I Got Out of Bed Today | It's fucked up, but kinda funny

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