Depression kinda sucks.

You may have noticed I haven’t done the last couple of Outlander recaps. I’ve been tinkering away at Episode 3 since it aired.

Here’s the trouble: I had a massive panic attack the night I was set to work on it, and it scrambled me. Then I had a couple of emergencies, one of which being my kid getting sick and having to chain myself to her bedside. Time kept stretching out, which tripped more of my insecurity bullshit. Then all of the related and unrelated anxiety coalesced into one big monster, crept up, and bit me in the ass. Big time. As in sucked me down into a massive emotional black hole.

As a result, I lost all interest in everything I loved. (No, seriously; at one point, I sat in front of my TV trying to force myself to continue watching an Outlander episode for three hours before I gave up. Shit got bad.)

Whenever you get the impulse to tell someone with depression to snap out of it, I want you to do the humane thing and slap yourself in the face instead. It felt like I was dragging a backpack full of rocks along behind me everywhere I went, and it was sitting on my chest when I woke up. I went four days without a shower because I couldn’t find the energy or even the will to fix the situation. For the most part, I think I was on automatic pilot. There were some doctor’s appointments sprinkled in there, too, I’m pretty sure.

I’m starting to come back out of it, but I wanted to let people know that I’m alive. I’m planning to finish Outlander recaps. There’s probably going to be a triple-whammy over a short period of time. Yay, goodies!

Thanks for bearing with me.


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