So yesterday, I was cleaning my room as a way to get myself out of this stupid depression. I went to take some things into the basement and fell down the freaking stairs! You can imagine how genius I felt, but what really surprised me was the fact that it didn't make me angry. The only thing to come out of my mouth was a slightly-louder-than-usual "ouch." Sure it stayed on my mind, but not like it would have if I was still depressed and annoyed. So yay! Cleaning worked!
Today I'm all sore, but I'll live. I've got a massive bruise on my back and a pretty big one on my arm, but I'm still not upset about falling.
Cleaning, for me, has always been a way to sort things out. "Tidy on the outside makes tidy on the inside" sort of thing. I still have exactly zero idea why I was depressed, but I'm definitely glad I'm out of it now!
Next time I fall into depression, I think I'm going to organise my shirts by colour...
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