The thing I hate most about depression is that it tricks you into thinking you don’t have depression. It makes you think that nothing is wrong with you, that you just feel this way because you lack value as a person. Whether that’s in your relationships, your academics, or a view of yourself, it makes you think you aren’t good enough for any of that.
“It’s not the illness,” it says, “You feel this way because it’s who you are.”
Me: I can’t get out of bed today, what is wrong with me. I’m so lazy and terrible and I am a huge flake and there has got to be something wrong with me.
My brain: There is no war in Ba Sing Se.
Honestly, learning to figure out when my depression is trying to trick me into believing that life is simply hopeless so that I can identify those emotions as irrational is one of the biggest breakthroughs I’ve ever made.
My list of tattoo ideas has reached ten now.
Planning on getting one as a survived-this-job/30th birthday gift to myself.
Just have to decide on which one.
That amusing yet awkward moment when you are having a minor panic attack and discover you have been gifted with new dry erase markers and your initial mental response is, “Master has given Dobby a sock!”
Going into my last week at job, feelings going between, “I do not give any fucks,” “I give way too many fucks,” and “I give no fucks but have to act like I do.”
Also, ‘sup Anxiety.
Things I want to do someday:
+ DM a homebrewish 5e D&D campaign
+ DM a Fallout: New Vegas set campaign adapted to work with 5e set up (I have a Spotify playlist for this already)
+ DM a Star Wars campaign (I have acquired all the PDFs for the updated system)
Basically, I am a nerd with a dice collection and nothing to do with said dice.
Kirkwall Was Totally Built On a Hellmouth 