Almost forty eight hours and I'm still here.

I keep reminding myself that basically the dividing line for me between "very stressed" and "suicidal" is a matter of unbalanced brain chemistry. All of my legitimate reasons to be depressed and stressed are essentially in the past.

Taking painkillers makes sense when you hurt like hell, as an analogy, but is stupid when the wound has healed and you're just upset because you still remember how much it hurt. That's kind of where I am now. I had some good reasons to want to die when I was growing up, but mostly I fought like hell to stay alive back then. Now that my reasons come down to "My brain doesn't work right", I seem to have stopped caring. It's irrational, and I know that. Surprisingly, reminding myself that my depression and my stress are largely irrational keeps me from doing irrational things about it. At least from one day to the next.

I've spent the last twenty years not deciding to live, but distracting myself from a choice every time I think about making one. The same part of me that reminds me that zombies aren't real so those must be hallucinations is what reminds me that logically, doing anything drastic about my irrational depression would be irrational.

It's weird, but you can get pretty damned far down a road by only looking down at your own feet.