- Will listen no matter what I have to say.
- Are soft.
- Don't give patronizing advice.
- Are free if borrowed from friends.
- Don't secretly judge me.
- Can't speak English and therefore are incapable of talking about me to others.
- Share a love of towels and other common interests.
- Are fun to play with.
- Understand why hiding places are awesome.
- Won't dig for awkward memories and feelings.
The idea of paying someone to listen to me is depressing. It seems wrong to open up my intimate thoughts to a complete stranger. A psychologist is like a whore for emotions... You pay a whore and they will listen to just about anyone. Is that supposed to be fulfilling? I guess there's many different kinds of psychologists, but I have it my head that I'll be given missions like 'talk to a new person each day' or 'smile at strangers' (like I couldn't decide that for myself). Or maybe the psychologist will just sit there nodding his or her head and force me into a very one sided conversation (I hate talking to begin with).
The go to answer for anyone with emotional problems is 'get professional help.' I can only assume TV and movies are to blame for this automated response. Maybe a journalist wrote some article about how sad it is that so many people who are depressed refuse to see psychologists. It's so cyclical! They refuse to see the psychologist because they are sad! They are sad because they refuse to see the psychologist!
If I imagine society is like a human body, then I must be a cell which is not responding properly. In the interests of the human body, of course I'm supposed to want to respond properly to its environment! That's for the best of the body! Are the cell's interests ever considered? Well, the difference between me and a cell is that I'm sentient.
My problems are probably very trivial. Probably everyone has had them at some point. There, now half the replies to this thread will be redundant. My mum says she thinks I've been depressed since I was 10 years old. She's not really an observant person, but she might be right about that. Your brain changes when you're that age. It's supposed to change around adulthood too (the whole reasoning behind voting age), but I must be mostly thru that by now and it's probably worse than it was when I was a teenager.
Here is a reply I foresee in this thread "you probably have chronic depression; drugs might help you."
Well, I thought just having the bullet points would be a shitty thread, so there's the emodump to go with it. There's so many things one isn't allowed to talk about because it just fucks up one's life. It's usually easier to just smile and pretend you are happy... "Sometimes when you force yourself to smile it eventually becomes genuine." There's truth to that saying. I think most of this post is so negative because I'm being told there is something wrong with me. I have happy moments, I really do. It's not that bad... I'm just not happy all the time, okkaaay? Watching StarCraft: Happy. Listening to lawnmowers and people yelling at each other: Frustrated. Writing: Happy. Reflecting: Sad. If I'm sad more often than I'm happy, it's only because my life is sad, not because there is something wrong with me...
Bluurrhhg, Bllaaarg. Cat belongs to my friend. Feel free to remark upon its cuteness.