Cool Cherry Cream

All my losing weight, throwing up, general unhealthiness has not been an eating disorder. It was (and still is) just plain depression.

I think it was kind of suggested to me before that it might be, but I was in denial. I mean, depression? Depression is for high school who cut themselves and dye their hair black. I’m not depressed. I don’t want to be depressed. That’s so useless.

That’s my general feeling about all this. When I’m throwing up, I think “why is this happening? This is so dumb”. I guess this kind of all goes back to me not really liking to show my emotions. And I don’t want people to fret over me, to try and help me. This is dumb, I don’t want to take up people’s time with childish emotions.

I just didn’t want to be associated with the word, the feeling: depression. That’s not who I am. I’m not that stereotypical picture. When I was young, late preteens, I always thought I was depressed and wished I could have a psychiatrist. Recently (but not too recently, before my depression, I mean) it occurred to me that I didn’t still feel that way. I felt… pretty… normal.

Also, the thing about a psychiatrist is I don’t feel they can tell me much I don’t already know. I already understand myself pretty well. I still make lots of connections about why I am the way I am, but I basically “get” me. (Now that I’m an adult, I have more responsibilities; I don’t want a job, to do adult things, because I still want to be a child, because I feel if I’m an adult, I won’t be special; I was always complimented because I was good at doing things for such a young age; now, what if I haven’t improved? I’m no longer special; also, this may seem obvious, but it just occurred to me that I liked being 17 because I wasn’t yet an adult, not because it was a nice number or because you had the opportunity to be dangerous and illegal, which I obviously would never do). To get back to the psychiatrist thing, I also feel like there’s much too much to tell and I don’t think anyone could understand me as well as I understand myself in such a short time.

Anyway, depression pretty sucks. I don’t do anything, don’t have motivation to do anything. When people suggest I do something with them, I don’t want to do it, I make excuses — but if I do do it, I feel better. I cry a lot. Mostly to do with the “this sucks, why is this happening?” thing. I throw up.

Yesterday was terrible, I threw up everything. All Dressed chips don’t taste good coming back up. You can see little baloney bits when you throw them back up. I need to stop myself from eating cherry Popsicles or Kool-Aid because I’ve cried over seeing that come back up, thinking it was blood. When all you’ve eaten is Popsicle and you throw it up, it’s like foam. I’m gettin’ to be an expert on throw up.

Also, is “throw up” a Canadianism? It’s hard to Google, because I don’t feel like that’s what people call it. Puke? Vomit? What’s the scientific term for it? None of those seem right.

I’m checking out some depression forums to see what other people feel. I have a lot of the same sentiments as them. I can’t stand to go to the teen depression forums, because there is where you are getting the emos and little me’s (excuse the apostrophe; it’s for clarity) who don’t know what depression really is. This is really it.

I don’t like reading people’s sob stories about their girlfriend/boyfriend, their job, a death in their family… whatever other typical things could cause depression. I don’t have a sob story. My story is I have four months with nothing to do, so I am.

I feel like I could “snap out of it” as they say if I just went back to school, if I was doing something for most of the day. But I certainly don’t want to get a job — the whole responsibility thing, remember?

Anyway, this pretty well sucks. I suppose I’ll go to the doctor’s (again) soon so he can give me some pills I can’t swallow.