I do not want to die.

However, I am having suicidal thoughts. The thoughts are intrusive in some ways. It like I keep running away from them, and as soon as I pause to take a breath, they are back. It is like I am keep filling a bucket with a hole on the bottom. As long as I keep some water in the pail I am okay, but the work is in vain. I always end up empty. Major Depression, bipolar depression, is a drain.

I spoke to my psychologist today. We talked about the possible who, what, why, when, and how the depression came to swallow my insides-out. A cup of lack of self esteem, added to a pint of stress, followed by a pinch of hopelessness, a teaspoon of failure, blended into miserable fluff of an existence……a jittered blackened gloom.

I try to keep my thoughts on flowers, birds and sunshine. Fuzzy dogs and bunnies. Hip hopping into a psychedelic serotonic fit.

I think the most upsetting part of delusions of depression is that you are psychotic enough to recognize them.

I do feel miserable. But I am going to try focusing on how much I like my fuzzy cow print blanket and the color of bright chartreuse green.