Depression tells me many lies.
Some days – I believe it. Some days – I’m able to shove it aside as the liar it is and continue on with my day.
Depression tells me:
I’m not good enough.
I don’t deserve it (whatever it is)
He’s only keeping me around to help care for his kids.
He died because he wanted to get away from me.
I’m the problem.
Getting out of bed is not an option.
Exercise won’t REALLY do me any good.
Eating healthy is a waste of time and money.
I’m fat, unsexxy, unloveable.
I can’t do anything right.
Depression lies a lot.
For whatever reason, depression is kicking in and taking over and I am struggling with it.
I know, logically that everything it’s telling me are lies. I just can’t make myself believe it.
But I keep telling myself that they are lies in the hopes that everything I’m doing will take me back to that place of positive, health, love and healing I was at before.
Because depression lies. And right now – the lies are winning.