And admitting it is worse than everything I've been feeling for the past 2 months.

Well, crud.

It's okay. I had to admit it, finally. It feels awful (I especially hate the part where I just got married and practically my immediate next step is antidepressants -- hey, Tim, glad you married me now???), it feels like giant failure, it feels like being stuck in a tar pit.

But it wasn't going to go away just because I kept saying "Things will get better after the wedding! After all the stress of the planning and organizing and fixing problems, things will be SUPER after the wedding!!!"

Although, FUCK, I really wanted it to. I wanted to be right about this one.

So, okay. I get through the next few days, take my clothes to the laundromat, hope my doctor refills my Ambien, pick up my new glasses, clean the fucking house, finish the thank-you notes, pack all my shit for a trip, go on the trip, get through the trip, try my goddamn hardest to make it a good time for Tim (because what kind of asshole ruins her honeymoon?), come home, start the new job with the AMA and try SO HARD to not fuck it up -- and go see the doctor.

Easy peasy.

You DID do well for the last two years, and that's a fantastic stretch for a chronic depressive! I totes get the feeling like a failure thing, but with mine, I'm slllloooowwwly coming to terms with it as an old war wound, like, oh, a bullet in the brain that can't be taken out: I MUST take medication for it daily, but sometimes the pain changes and I have to switch meds. Sometimes I forget I have it in there, and I feel fine, but no matter how careful I am, sometimes, it MOVES and I am in excruciating pain.

It's not my fault I have this bullet in my brain, but all I can do is know it's there, it's always going to be there, and there are things I can do to keep it from hurting me as much as I can. But damn it, sometimes it just moves on its own, and I have to seek palliative care, and that's OK. It sucks I have this bullet, but it's not my fault, and there are ways I can learn to deal with it. Because if I don't, it'll kill me.

ETA:

This is just my most useful analogy FOR ME. I completely empathize...and yo, depressive episodes OFTEN hit right after happy events.

Ugh. Sorry. So, so sorry. All I've done for the past few months -- probably more -- is whine and bitch and cry, and I really have no right to. I realize I just got married and got a part-time job, and to whine and bitch and cry in the face of that is entitled and appalling.

I'm sorry. I'll do better. You guys deserve better.

What's to be sorry for? Marriage is stressful, and you LOST YOUR FUCKIN JOB before you scored a new one.

Ain't no one playin' "Sucks more to be me," just "Sometimes shit do suck surely."

Teppy, you are not a failure. You've had a very difficult year with a lot of stresses and changes, and depression just loves to take advantage of things like that.

Sorry, I freaked out here last night. I thought I had enough spoons and then there was pain, and all my spoons disappeared all at once. The grocery delivery showing up early, was just the last thing I could handle.

ION, my uncle is doing better today.

No apologies needed, hon. And I completely understand the post-wedding crash thing: I get the same thing every time I've just gotten past a big stressful thing, whether it's a huge deadline, a job search, a speaking gig... and HELL YES getting married. I tend to get the depression flare, a nasty flu-like random bug or two and a migraine, all at once. My totally pulled-from-my-ass scientific opinion is that I've been working so hard to hold it all together that once the big thing is behind me, the whole giant tower of blocks has no choice but to come down at once.

And yes, in those circumstances, it's totally understandable that a fucking washing machine would be just too much to deal with.

Things absolutely will get better post-wedding, because it's so obviously the right choice for you and Tim's lives. It's just that "post" doesn't necessarily mean "today", it means something more like "once you've gotten over the wacky mental immune-system crash and hid out in a pillow fort until things have normalized". And society does a completely sucktastic job of prepping you for that or even letting you feel like it's okay.

pssst, sj, no apologies needed from you either!

Steph, no apologies. We're all here to prop each other up.

it feels like giant failure, it feels like being stuck in a tar pit

Come sit with me, seriously. We have the same brain. But it's actually not our fault.