Won't you take me to Funkytown. Depression sucks.

It has happened.  I am officially in a "funk".  For anyone that hasn't experienced this let me do my best to describe it to you:

You can't seem to stop crying, and when you do, you don't feel any better, you just feel like crying some more.  Getting out of bed is a legit struggle. What's the point?  Eating is pointless too since you feel like barfing.  Personal hygiene is completely overlooked.  Who cares if you smell.  Life sucks anyway.  You have no friends so what does it matter?  Nobody likes me.  I miss my mom.  Nobody cares about me.  Why do I need anyone to care about me?  What's wrong with me?  Why do I care who cares about me???  Why can't I be more independent?  Why am I so needy?  No wonder nobody likes me, I'm so needy!  Let's cry some more.  Now I have a headache.  Repeat.  Repeat.  Repeat.

Seriously, it's awful.  Plus there's the shame that comes with it.  The guilt because I know my life could be SO MUCH WORSE so I shouldn't feel so badly.  But I do.  I can't help it.  I feel bad.  I feel sad.  I feel lonely and anxious and scared.  Scared that I will never feel better.  Yes, I have so much going for me.  I have my health.  A house, food (even though I don't want any), transportation, a full head of hair, a husband, a beautiful, healthy daughter, supportive family members and 326 facebook friends (please note I just looked that up and didn't just know the number off the top of my head).  I am grateful for all of these things, yet I am still too sad to function today.

There are some things going on in my life that I'm not going to share here (maybe in another post at some point), but none of them would seem major enough to warrant this type of response from my emotional being.  My point is this: we can't always control our emotions (actually I can NEVER control mine).  We can't always psych ourselves up when our psyche is down (oh, that's a good one!).  For those of you that HAVE experienced this before I'm here to tell you that you are not alone.   It doesn't make you weak, or pathetic, or broken.  And for the fortunate ones who have no idea what I'm referring to, I implore you to please be kind to anyone you know who may be going through this.  They can't help it.  Honestly, if they could they would.  Nobody WANTS to lay in bed in a pool of their own tears, drool, and sweat while contemplating never standing up again.

How I wish I had suggestions for how to get out of Funkytown.  In my past experiences the dread and hopelessness have usually passed on their own after a few days.  Sometimes pharmaceutical intervention has been required.  Mostly what's helped is knowing that I have to get up to take care of my little girl.  I'm usually able to get back into the swing of things because I'm solely responsible for the well-being of another human being.  Then it's just a matter of faking it 'til I make it.  Today I have nothing to do until I pick her up from camp at 4:30.  I had planned on being productive.  Doing laundry, cleaning the house, organizing closets.  But that's not going to happen.  I feel another big cry coming on.