#i can't even sleep like a normal depressed person because my nerves won't stay quiet long enough to get any restful sleep

[kriscynical]

I have finally thrown in the towel and gone back on Welbutrin.

If you're considering the need to go back on your meds, take this as a sign from the universe that yes, you do indeed need to and you have nothing to prove to anybody.

This turned into mental health word vomit nobody is going to care about so I'm putting it under a cut to save your dashes.

After having the health crisis in 2009 that left me with the permanent nerve damage I'm still dealing with followed by one of my best friends throwing me under a bus and gaslighting me about it, I started struggling with my mental health. When my middle sister passed away from breast cancer in January 2010 I destroyed myself trying to be The Strong One for my parents, letting my cup run so dry it cracked and broke.

I spent the next 7 years at the bottom of a hole, the last four or so on Welbutrin that helped quite a bit but not completely. My personal art output was absolute zero. I lost my 20's to it, basically.

I finally pulled myself out of it when I renovated the room across from my bedroom into my studio and got into Yuri on Ice in late 2016 because I had something to focus on, get excited about, and be inspired by. I pumped out 40 new pieces of art in 2017 because of it, I was getting regular interaction with people, my blog was growing again, and it was fantastic. I was an art machine. I came off of the Welbutrin in Spring 2016. I was happy for the first time in years.

Anybody still in the YoI fandom knows that well has been bone dry for a few years now; most of our crops withered if not died completely, and fandom policing bullshit made creating fanart for it far less desirable for me. I started slipping.

Then 2018 happened. My oldest sister passed away in February from liver failure. The day after we buried her ashes next to my middle sister in the family plot, we found out our dog, Sushi, had late stage lymphoma at only 9 years old. Her face had barely even begun to get a dusting of white. We lost her that July. I slipped some more. I came out of that year holding on to the edge of that hole by the tips of my fingers, but I was proud that I hadn't fallen back in completely.

Then 2020 happened. On March 13 my life upended and my sole focus became keeping my high risk parents safe from Covid, becoming their caregiver and doing absolutely everything for them that involved interacting with people or going out in public. In the last 14 months I've only gone to the pharmacy and chiropractor. That's it. We've been having our groceries delivered via a wonderful woman named Katelyn through Dumpling. Quarantine has aged me by at least five years at this point if the lines on my face are any indication.

Then my uncle was diagnosed with stage IV esophageal cancer over the summer and the traumatizing hell of trying to care for him here at our house -- on top of the added stress of having a CONSTANT parade of nurses, hospice people, and chaplains coming through the house because of it in the middle of a pandemic I was working so hard to protect my parents from -- was a body blow that included a dissociative episode. He passed away in October 2020.

I was finally able to get myself and my parents vaccinated through the county health department at the end of March 2021, which was a Thing all unto itself because of their system fucking things up.We got our second dose toward the end of April and a huge weight lifted off my shoulders, but the damage was already done.

My personal art output has been zero for almost two years at this point. The last piece of fan work I actually finished that wasn't for a client, zine, or gift was in October 2019, it didn't even get 200 notes, nobody seemed to care or even notice that I had been basically MIA online in the last two years (save for maybe three people), so I lost the sliver of motivation I still had left. Let me repeat that:

I haven't finished any personal artwork that wasn't for a client, zine, or gift since October 2019. It's now May 2021.

At the beginning of April I finally said fuck it, I give up, and emailed my doctor asking for a new script for Welbutrin. While I'm not as godawful miserable emotionally as I was back when I started taking it originally (although it's on its way down that road), I am back to being completely unmotivated to do much of anything let alone produce new art. I have ideas. I just don't have the motivation to sit down and execute them.

As I've said several times before, I have to create in order to feel worthwhile. Interaction with people online when I post my work helps me stay in a good place mentally because I'm human and humans need positive interaction and just a sense that we're seen and matter. It's a nasty spiral because once it started seeming that hardly anybody cared about my work anymore or even noticed when I disappeared, that finished the job of killing my motivation. I know art should be made for yourself but like I said, I'm human and I'm just being honest here instead of trying to bullshit anybody. What's the point of posting if it's seemingly just going into the void?

I'm tired of being in that rut of a mindset and languishing in that bad headspace, so I'm trying to help myself out of it before I hit the bottom of that hole again. I never want to go back there, but I'm damn close at this point.

At least the Welbutrin is making me lose weight because it's killed my appetite.

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

I Am Not Living, I Am Surviving Hug Me Michael x Reader

Warnings: this theme deals with depression and thoughts of suicide which could be triggering for some.

A/N: as someone that deals with depression I felt compelled to post this. Michael helps Y/N during her depressive episode, the reader (much like me tends to shut people out especially when things get difficult so I feel this on a personal level). Hope you guys take the time to read this as it is kinda personal for me, thanks guys and please let me know what you think. Note the lyrics used are from Britta Phillips version of the song Drive

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//who's gonna tell you when

it's too late

who's gonna tell you things

aren't so great

you can't go on

thinking nothing's wrong

who's gonna drive you home tonight//

I was not alone, that there was someone somewhere who was able to articulate the seething, jumbled, brutal, pre-linguistic, thrashing, writhing, hazing, dulling pounding in my head. It wasn't just me. That single thought was the most important thing in the world to me, sometimes the one thing that kept me alive – a single false note of optimism would have shattered it all for me, left me thinking yes, it really is just me – the words people offer me really are just that, words, the hope they contain utterly irrelevant because they relate to an experience that is not mine.

‘I put on a brave front' it had been so easy to hide how I truly felt, laugh, joke act like I was completely fine. But truth was I knew deep down inside I wasn't masking it would only work for so long. I was rapidly sliding deeper and deeper into a very dark space. My symptoms got worse and soon I found it too difficult to even get up and out of bed in the morning.

‘You feel nothing. You shut down completely. There is no happiness, no sadness, nothing. You feel zero.’ Depression is not something that can be brushed away with a smile, or shooed away with a pat on the back. It’s something more deeper and profound. There’s no gadget to test which person is suffering from what type of depression, and there’s no instrument to measure the extent of depression.

Statistics say that as many as 1 in 4 of us will experience a mental health problem at some point in our lives. That means you know someone—probably several someones—with depression, anxiety, an eating disorder or something else. Isolation can have a crushing effect on a lot of people. Some people thrive on it, but humans on the whole are a social bunch and need to interact with others. When that isn’t possible, it’s easy to feel that the walls are closing in. But honestly all I was good at doing is pushing people away, I am afraid if they get to close if they see really see what I am going through that they might abandon me because it may end up being way too much for them.

I kept a diary somehow it felt safer to write down my thoughts, the one person I should be honest with is Michael but I honestly couldn't bring myself to do it. Would he be hurt? Would he hate me? So many thoughts in the back of my mind I pushed them away. I scribbled furiously in the journal and tossing it aside. Normally I hid it under a loose floorboard in our bedroom but on this night not giving it so much as a second thought I feel asleep journal wide open. Y/N didn't hear Michael when he walked in, he looked at you you were fast asleep. He noticed the leather bound book that laid open by your sleeping form. He didn't want to invade your privacy but something alerted him that something was on deed wrong. He looked at the small paragraph scrawled on the page, his face froze in fear at the words before him.

Dear Michael.

I've been thinking about ending my life. I don't know why I can't talk to you in person, so I bought this Diary in the case that I do end up killing myself you will know why I did what I did and that you cannot blame yourself. Michael you are the reason I am still here. for now. But the voices in my head are so strong and the pain that it is inflicting on me everyday, one more thing and I feel like I won't be able to hold on, but I will for you Michael  I will try my best for you.

Yours Truly,

Y/F/N Y/L/N

Depression is a hole and I'm slowly falling in trying to claw out and everyone I love is just standing there watching. Honestly I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep 'acting’ like I was ok when deep down inside I wanted to end it, quiet the voices leave the pain behind that quite frankly I felt like I was drowning in.

I opened my eyes I don't know how long I had been asleep or even what time it was. I looked to see Michael's concerned expression his piercing blue eyes felt like they had penetrated my soul. There my journal sat in his lap, Michael let out a breath attempting to steady himself. “Why won't you talk to me Y/N, tell me that something was wrong?” I couldn't even open up my mouth to speak it was like I lost all nerve to even respond. My first instinct was to bolt, I sat up quickly turning my body away from him. I wasn't able to even make it to the edge of the bed, Michael grabbed my arm “Y/N please talk to me don't shut me out!”

Michael's breathing started to get heavier as his eyes started to well up. Y/N  looked at Michael, saying nothing. He wondered what she was thinking. Finally, after a few moments, she started sobbing, and she leaned into him. Michael immediately pulled her into his arms, letting her cry on his shoulder, and struggling not to cry himself. ‘I was tired of feeling helpless. I had to do something, anything.’ ‘I remember that exact moment as the one where I started to feel good about myself again, I just wish it could've lasted longer…

There was another moment of silence, this one longer than the last, "I tried to tell myself that you'd get better, that you would get back to normal  but the truth is I didn't know that. I didn't know if you'd get better, you can't keep doing this to yourself Y/N, what if I never see you again! And the thought of everyone else just going on with their lives made me sick! So yeah,I am angry, and I am scared…  I didn't know what the fuck I am supposed to do!" Michael's voice finally broke as tears streamed down his face. Y/N, with tears in her own eyes, finally stood up. She pressed her forehead against Michael's and placed her hands on the sides of his head. ‘But most of all, I knew, come what may, I had at least one safe harbor.’ I looked up at Michael the look was unmistakable.

‘I'll never forget what I saw at that moment, looking into Michael's eyes.’

‘He loved me. This sweet, perfect man… loved me.’

After staring at him for another moment that seemed to last forever, she finally leaned in and kissed him. He quickly began kissing her back. The two of them continued this until it started to grow more heated, with the two of them running their hands over each other, and Michael kissing along the side of her neck.

He pulled back after a minute and looked at her.

"Are you… are you sure this is okay?" he asked, breathing heavily.

Y/N gave Michael a smile.

"I'm sure," I  said.

‘That wasn't entirely true. I wasn't sure, or rather I wasn't sure if I was sure.but I didn't know if that made a difference. I knew I wanted it to be okay this time.’

The two of them resumed, even more passionately this time. They began removing clothes and letting their hands roam over more of more of each other…

‘More than anything, I wanted it to be okay this time. I remember thinking, please, please, let it be okay this time.’

Michael continued kissing Y/N, who leaned her head back as the feelings came over her…

‘But it wasn't okay’

I inhaled sharply…

‘It was perfect.’

2 weeks later…

"How is Y/N?" Gallant ask, suddenly looking at Michael with concern on his  face.

Michael hesitated. He  came here to help Gallant with an issue with his salon , not unload his  own worries onto him. Still, lying to him didn't feel right either.

"I don't know, really," Michael  finally said. "She just doesn't seem to want to open up. I know she's been having a really hard time." Michael gave Gallant  a slight smile. “I think it's just going to take time.” Gallant responded softly.

‘The day were getting... bearable.’

‘So were the days after that, and the next after that.’

‘Michael found me a new doctor. A bit further away, but worth the trip. I was able to open up to her a little.’

‘Still, I couldn't shake this feeling that there was something I was supposed to do, but at first, I couldn't figure out what it was.’

‘But gradually I started to notice something…’

‘...something I couldn't shake once I noticed them.,

‘The signs.’

‘The ones most people didn't see. The ones no one saw in me until it was almost too late.’

Michael  wiped one last tear rolling down his face and closed his eyes.

“Please live for me Y/N," he said, softly. “Stay with me, I love you."

Y/N sighed in relief.

‘All I could do after that was live.’

Michael pulled me close to him tightly I could hear his heartbeat, a steady reminder to live

//Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.//

Mahatma Gandhi