Depressions a Bitch, and So Am I

I haven't been to well lately, my depression gets greatly affected by seasonal shifts and this is something I've been aware of for years. Edd is also aware of this and is very sensitive towards helping me through these times.
My life is great right now, I have found the perfect man for me and we are so happy together, I've finally got savings in the bank which is rare for me, I've done some fantastic shows lately, have plenty of exciting things booked in, castings coming my way, got back to the weight I wanted after losing so much over the non stop December.
I should be on top of the world.

I have depression.
It makes no sense, it hits you when you least expect it without any warning or reasoning.
Sometimes situations in life have a great affect when your mental state is already significantly weakened by previous bouts, sometimes you could be having the best time of your life but still it lingers and tries to beat you down.
Generally I try to get on with it, ignore it, talk it through with Edd who is patient and understanding enough to listen and try to help, but other days getting out of bed is hard.
Those days I have to force myself to smile, to eat, shower, leave the house if I have no way of getting out of it. I can't call a producer with the reason "I'm too depressed to face outside" and this is also my job.
Having the extra worry of money wouldn't help and so I carry on.

The smallest things get my down lately, stupid fickle feeble unimportant things that would usually be a mild inconvenience, but to me and others with depression it feel like your soul has been sucked out a tiny bit more and replaced with the blackness depression provides.
I have been open and honest about my depression before, so I think most of my friends and family, and even some people who watch the shows know about the fact I can have my bad days.

Sometimes the stupid things that get to me amuse me in a strange and contradictory way. Yesterday I told Edd about how I was feeling, I laughed at how stupid it was and how it shouldn't have such an effect, not in the grand scheme of things.
After this conversation I took to my facebook, writing a post I believed summed up the strange things depression can do to your brain, as I mentioned before, people know about it and plenty of people I know also suffer the same or similar conditions.

Anyone who actually knows me would know this was pointing out how my strange brain likes to affect me, and that it was also seeing some humor in the situation with the summing up of such a status. Also that facebook isn't very important and is used for flippant comments and isn't to be taken to heart. That what I would have liked to think.

So today when I open my inbox to find this message, from someone I'm not sure I actually know, and who missed the point entirely it shocked me. Mainly because it's a fairly contradictory message in itself, but also at how much this person missed the point of above's flippant and unimportant status.

Firstly, it's boo HOO, not who, bad grammar.
And yes, being someone who reads the news, even writes about such events, gives money to charity, doesn't even eat any animal products, gives to the homeless, and actually does try to help others while being polite towards them, I am perfectly aware that there is injustice in this world.
Injustices that we would all like to be able to change but we all do what we can, we could all do more, we could end wars they mentioned all over the world and use the money that funds such wars to feed those starving and dying people mentioned in the same sentence.
I wasn't aware anyone was paying me pennies for my thoughts, useless or not. But I would like to think I wasn't a bimbo, especially as I'm working towards being a writer and am constantly working on practicing and improving it with such blogs as this one! 
Pretty sure my Genes are what makes me exist, if he meant Jeans it's okay, I bought some new ones yesterday to replace the ones that didn't fit right.
The flesh comment? I don't even know where to begin with that....

But it's the last sentence that gets me, take my prozac (I'm not currently on anti-depressants as I don't like the affect) to make myself happy, aaaand then.....kill myself.
Who knows what those pictures are even about.

I wasn't expecting such a reaction to the post I made, seemingly I'm such a bad person for briefly allowing my depression to do it's usual and get inside my head.
It doesn't matter that just last night, the same day I posted this I gave some money to a guy on my way home from a show, who then told me he'd moved to london only two months before, and this was his first week on the street. I sat and talked to this man in the cold and rain for 40 minutes, all about his life and situation and it really upset me that I couldn't do more to help him, or the countless others that I have given food and money to.  I'm a heartless and selfish bitch.

But this is one of the good guys, they care about the starving and dying people even if they might not go out of their way to actually do anything about it.
Instead they're busy at home sending messages to openly depressed people with helpful advice.
They tell them to Kill Themselves.

The commute, an outsiders view...

The morning commute is a routine task, one us London based people do regularly even daily but as a routine for a city full of people who don’t connect, who like their personal space, and hate those who get in their way it is one of little sense.

I start with the usual cigarette to calm my nerves before boarding my train, full of dread for the inevitable. I find a perch not a chair, a perch behind a man with a rather large backpack and spend the first train ride having my right breast crushed by his lack of spacial awareness of the object he has used to extend his own body mass. I worry during this as my right boob is my favourite of the two, being only slightly bigger than the other it’s safety is of upmost importance to me.

Once at the underground I literally wrestle my way onto the smaller metal cylinder so I can be hurtled towards my destination, and try to make sure I have enough room to actually put both feet onto the floor and not spend the time balancing like a flamingo grasping an oyster card and metro.
Standing very close to me, very near to my face is a slightly shorter girl who had obviously used a very powerful mouthwash that she is breathing directly up my nostrils throughout the journey. I often make accidental eye contact with strangers but look away quickly as the mistake I made the day before of smiling led to a glaring death stare.

Occasionally the announcer takes the time to tell off a mystery commuter, with the singsongy voice of a primary school teacher to keep all items out of the way of the doors and to not lean on them, at every stop, leading to accusing looks from fellow passengers at anyone remotely near to the door.
When not glaring at the shamed near the door we glare at the people victorious in their seats, sitting smugly with a distinct lack of armpits near to their face.

Eventually I emerge, like a broken stressed phoenix into the outside world, only to see previous commuters walking by with their pathetic cardboard coffee cups like trophies to show they too survived.
And so I walk, realising that I missed the ability to move my feet and also that my sinuses have been strangely cleared by the mouthwash, maybe too clear. That was some damn strong mouthwash.