Swept From Under the Rug.

Self reflection is always a dangerous game to play.  Especially when you don’t let anyone reason with you in order to keep the self-pity and loathing at bay.

As the holidays are upon us, my personal struggle with anxiety and depression becomes even harder.  Retail employment becomes barely manageable and free time gets flooded with decorations, gift wrapping, and small talk with neighbors.

I lay in bed at night and just stare at the ceiling, unable to breathe…mainly because I have bronchitis and retail employment refuses to allow any “personal days” during the blackout months, but that’s a different issue.

As I stare and contemplate life, I find myself just being sad.  Being sad about a great many things, both personal, spiritual, intellectual, physical, etc.   Enters the thought that some people with depression have:

“I don’t have the right to be sad.”

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