I’m pretty sure our downstairs tenant is smoking indoors. The smell wafts upstairs of course and is sickening. Add to that I have midgets here one of whom has asthma. I have gone downstairs in the past to confront him but could find no evidence and he denied smoking in the apartment. So if I storm down there now I will look like an asshole. The smell is worse today than ever before. It’s so bad I had to retreat to my bedroom upstairs to avoid it as much as possible.
Do you think that stench could be coming off his laundry? We share facilities with him and that common area wouldn’t contain the smell very well.
Yesterday a friend on Facebook posted a lovely uplifting article on how to defeat depression by exercising, getting lots of vitamin D, and reading a good book. Or was it THE good book? No matter, for it’s all bullshit. I pretty much fight depression full on about 70% of the time. That means 70% of my awake time is spent actively pushing away a parachute that is billowing around me. I fight my natural instinct to curl up in a ball under my comforter on a daily basis, and that’s with the assistance of modern anti-depressants! So I was pissed. Oh! And thanks for misleading everyone else who also mistakenly believes depression is akin to having a bad day. I don’t even know what that feels like. Most of my days are a struggle against the darkness and good/easy days are rare.
So yeah, I posted a very harsh comment onto her post for all to see. In her defense she doesn’t understand what this chronic condition feels like, nor does she get any education about it from pop culture. And to her credit she removed the post and emailed me an apology. I wish she would have left the post up and spend some time tearing down the theories contained in it.
I don’t often talk about my day to day darkness because I am usually actively putting it out of my mind. But make no mistake, it’s always there.