Well, not that you can do anything about it, or that I can do anything about it, but thought I might as well 'fess up that I'm in a severe depression. Basically all of March I've been sleeping 15 hours a day waking up around 4 pm from terrible nightmares, or laying on my couch crying. No particular reason I can identify, just general feeling overwhelm and worthless and unloved and wishing I wouldn't wake up.
I haven't been seeing friends or talking to them on the phone particularly for the last month, but I happened to somehow leave my house for breakfast last week to see a gfriend I hadn't seen in over a year...and she correctly diagnosed me: post partum. Pretty much kicked in the minute I was done with the movie. Pretty funny that me, the one who doesn't want kids, gets post partum from her art.
My friend's an artist, and said she sees it all the time and has been through it herself. Spending an intense, workaholic amount of time on one project, then having it suddenly done can make you feel really helpless and awful. Especially when you have to show it to the world and wait for judgement and approval and money, and it's your soul out there everyone's shitting on.
God, and the people who have seen the movie...everyone wants to know which scenes are real and if I've been sexually abused. I guess it's a compliment that the movie is so authentic and scary, but it's also weirdly sexist...does anyone ask Michael Bay if he's seen a robot?
I think I also suffered a few weird blows because I haven't had many friends interested in what I've been doing every waking minute since August. They pretty much could care less, which makes me question my friendships in LA. And then I had several men in a row use the idea of wanting to see the film as an obnoxious way to come on to me when I was really vulnerable, again without any interest in the work itself that I've poured myself into. That really freaking hurts, and makes me second guess myself, and what men want from me, and whether it's worth even trying...
I guess I need a new focus or project. But that involves figuring out if I should move away from LA, how I'm going to support myself now, why no one seems to find any of my skills paycheckworthy, why I'm so retarded that I can't seem to take care of myself...fixing all of that is not as interesting to me as going to my big ass fluffy bed and praying the universe just let's me out of all this nonsense.
Then again, Battlestar is ending, and it would really suck not to be able to tell mom how it finished and who the last cylon is. So that's a very good reason to stay on the planet and figure out how to make my life work and have some small measure of meaning.
Last week was a tiny bit better. Every other day I got out of the apartment for a couple hours for one chore or two. The sunshine really stung my eyes, and I could barely look people in the eye. I'm fragile, I guess.
Maybe this will be the week I have the willpower to stop hitting snooze.