Let’s get real, shall we? I share about my anxiety and panic attack disorder often on the blog, but not my depression. Mostly because mental illness sucks and I hate that I have so much of it.
What I have realized lately about my depression, is that it is worse when I’m taking time off work.
You would think when I have days (hours more like.. I am a freelancer after all), I get super blue and depressed. Nothing interests me. During the week when I am going on hour 13 in a single day, I want nothing more than to throw my laptop against a wall and vegetate in front of the TV. Yet when I do finally finish with work and am ready to relax, I’m unable to.
Brains are fucked up.
I actually first started noticing weirdness when I went from “Holy shit, how am I going to pay my rent AND my cable bill?” to “Cool. I’m totally caught up on bills and not stressed about money right now.”
(As a freelancer, I realize this is short-lived.)
When the stress over finances and work went away, suddenly I became more anxious and more depressed. I re-stressed myself out over the fact that I couldn’t handle the lack of stress anymore. I couldn’t figure out what the problem was. The first thought was: Do I LIKE the stress?!
I don’t think that is what I’m missing, I just think I suffer from depression, but when other things are on my mind, I don’t notice it as much. This is essentially what weekend depression is. You are finally able to relax and unwind, which is great. The bad part is that your brain has enough time to think about things, and it’s not always what you’re expecting.
I miss the days when I could sleep until noon and watch Netflix marathons for so long, I didn’t remember if I ate that day. That used to be me. Now, I am a bit of a workaholic. Anyone who knows me, understands how insane that is. I hate working. At least I used to. It’s awesome that I found something to consume me so much, because it means I am almost always motivated to keep working. The problem is that, even when I technically can take a day off, I don’t.
So, maybe it is a combination of depression and plain ole’ workaholic-ness. That’s not a word. But I’m a writer and I can make up whatever words I want.
How about you? Do you find that during the weekend you’re not quite as excited as you should be? I have a feeling I will get the typical “What is wrong with you, FREAK” responses. I totally don’t blame you. I hate me a little bit too.