You often hear of people talking about their guilty pleasures: a brain rotting reality show, a sugary breakfast on a Saturday morning, fast food indulgences once a week, the fancy coffee from Starbucks each morning…
What about Guilty Sorrows?
What do I mean by “Guilty Sorrows”? Well, aside from the guilty pleasures (which some would call sorrows, depending on how guilty they feel afterward), it’s the things we do that aren’t pleasurable and affect us now and later. This is something that someone with depression will be able to relate to – the endless cycle of guilt and depression.
Do you see where I’m going here? A depressed person doesn’t just feel down and out. It’s not all “woe is me”, but more of “I am so broken that my life is falling apart around me, and I don’t have the willpower to do anything but sulk in the fact that I’m depressed and my life is falling around me…”
It’s like a carousel from hell!
I experienced such a feeling this morning. Yesterday, depression struck me hard, and it was difficult to accomplish anything. This morning, I felt the ramifications of that – searing guilt because:
So, more depression came, which resulted in.
GUILT GUILT GUILT!
And around and around we go. And right now, there is sugary goodness calling to me from my kitchen in the form of cool whip and frosting. It’s hard to resist. I feel like a heroin addict or something. “Just this once, because I’m having a bad day.” I crave a mocha too, and I’m seriously considering an indulgence this weekend. Bad bad bad. It’s such a good thing that I’ve never once tried illegal drugs before, and even better that alcohol makes me feel so terrible that I have no desire to drink it. I seriously think that my depression leads to an addictive personality.
Not all people with mental health issues have addiction problems, but mine does…or maybe they are separate, I don’t know.
Whatever. At least I wrote my article today and did the dishes. The sourdough starter was taken care of this morning, and hopefully it isn’t ruined. I’ll go to the bank when I can, and I took care of my sick kids today even though it was really hard to get myself going this morning. I guess I did what I could, and maybe it’s enough, but it sure doesn’t feel like it.
Why do I keep thinking I have to be perfect?
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