When I go through depression – often when I go through the worst parts of my depression – there is an extra voice in my head. She tells me all the worst things about myself. She tells me the things I least need to hear in the moment.
She tells me ‘they are better off without you,’ and ‘there’s no way you’ll survive this.’
He’s the other voice.
He believes in me – whenever, wherever. It’s almost frustrating. But also touching somehow. And occasionally annoying. Sometimes it’s easier just to feel terrible about myself.
But that voice has sustained me through the month of November and now half way through December. It’s been a hard freaking month. Like balls flying all over, no catching any of them. Many questions, no answers.
How I would love to ask a question and get a clear, simple answer when I ask a question, instead of more questions back. Or to be able to figure something out on my own and come to an answer without feeling fear that I’m wrong.
I am so tired of being wrong.
But there’s a danger in letting Joe be right all the time…