Sometimes I stutter. Not just in speech, but in movement. That’s what depression does to me, it causes me to lurch forward and back, like a car with an engine problem. If you were a fly on the wall you’d see me looking at something that needs to be put on the fridge, and my hand just above the item. Will I pick it up? Won’t I pick it up? Why should I? Why not? A thousand words go through my head, every one questioning my decisions. Every word a lie.
Depression lies to you.
I have a gym membership, and I know that exercise is good for bashing away at depression. But I can’t work up to working out. Nope. Maybe tomorrow. Or next week.
I have to keep telling myself that depression isn’t all of me.
That’s the truth.