My Depression Diary

Sister, I can't tell now whether I'm really feeling uncomfortable or just pretending, and from time to time I feel an inexplicable desire for pain. First I pinch myself for fear of pain, then pinch myself, then twist myself, then use tools, and slowly, when I feel really bad, I hit myself when I can't hold it in any longer. I drilled more than 10 nails, and now I want to cut my wrists. When I react, I feel that I am making a fuss, but I know that at that moment, I really really mean it. When I play outside, I am an e person, very bold, enthusiastic and lively, but once I leave, I will close myself off. , So they all think that I am a little sunshine, and they tell me everything. But most of the time, I hate myself and feel that I am very hypocritical. I have random thoughts every day and can't do anything well. I am a useless person with poor interpersonal relationships. My studies are average and I can't find a job after graduation. At work... I often break down inexplicably and cry all the time. I feel like I'm going to explode if I can't hold it in anymore, and I feel the urge to see blood. But many times I decide that I'm just pretending, just to get comfort and special treatment from others 😢😢😢😢😢😢

I am also going through a period of depression. I am not interested in anything every day. I feel so tired. I felt so much and cried several times after reading this book. I hope I can get better like the author's sister.

It's very real. I feel like I'm very contradictory. I feel like I'm just a performer. It seems like I'm really doing self-mutilation to gain some comfort and then I start to laugh at myself. I also can't catch my own thoughts, and want to record them, leaving nothing but chaos. The most important thing is mental activity. Every time I want to record something like this, my mind goes blank when I pick up a pen. Even though I was used to keeping a diary before, and I really felt like I was pretending when I was writing, so I couldn't keep writing. But the author writes it in great detail.

I was very surprised to see the novel you wrote. I will read it to the end. I am also happy for you when I see the catalog saying that I have been cured. Looking forward to your additional work, keep up the good work.

The author is really great, portraying the ambivalence of longing for relief and expecting to be noticed, as well as questioning whether he is acting, in a very natural and real way. He is highly sensitive, has good writing skills, and knows some basic knowledge of psychology. The personality constructed by these characteristics can be said to be a fairy tale. If I have the chance, I really want to get to know the author himself

Come on, come on, live well [pouts]

I don't know why, but when I saw what you wrote, I felt uncomfortable in my heart, and a pair of invisible hands clamped my throat. It turns out that someone is just like me, struggling between being sick and not sick [I almost cried] I didn't read the rest, but these words resonated with me so much, come on.

I resonate with your feelings. I've been there too. I can't say I feel the same way, but I understand you very well. I understand.

I don't know why, but when I read the words, I felt empathy. Obviously I have never experienced anything like the author's. I feel like every word is full of emotions, so thick that it seems to pull me in.

When I read what you wrote, I found it very real and engaging. Whenever my husband finds fault with me, accuses me, or wrongfully accuses me, and refuses to listen to my explanations and my thoughts, I will also feel angry and irritated, and the nameless anger in my heart cannot be released. That savage aggression has never been exported, and has turned into daily internal friction and self-doubt. It is a tool of self-attack. When I am very angry, I will also want to beat him, but I can't beat him. I feel that this person is so unreasonable and stubborn. Why can't he see me and understand me for once? I seem so insignificant and unworthy of being seen. I even feel like he is bitten hard on the back of my hand. A mouthful, or a hard scratch with a fingernail, it hurts, and I feel that I am still alive, but that's it. That is, occasionally when I am really too angry, I have never thought about scratching with a knife, getting deeper and deeper, committing suicide, etc. I have been studying psychology in the past few years, and I have gradually understood myself and myself. Others, slowly began to understand that everyone has different natural personality tendencies, different origin families, and different life experiences, which have created different cognitions and ways of thinking. If there is a person who insists on calling a deer a horse all day long, then I will allow it. I will argue with him every day in anger. He is not angry, but I am angry. If a person is like a blind man in a blind man touching an elephant, and his cognition does not reach a certain level, and we cannot explain it clearly no matter how we talk to him, then we can only allow it, let him go, and let ourselves go.