You all know that old saying you’re your own worst enemy well for those of us who live with depression and anxiety this holds even more true.

I spent a majority of my teen years not bothering to plan for the future because I always sort of expected that I would be dead by 25.

Then 25 came and went.

And I was still here, still depressed and still alive.

Medication helps and I wouldn’t want to live my life without it, but that’s sort of the thing… I can’t live my life without it.

I tried going off my meds when I was in high school because I didn’t like that I needed chemicals to be normal and hoo-boy did that not end well.

The thing is no medication, not all the drugs in the world that can make my brain normal, you know, like one that produces dopamine and serotonin.

I will always need medication in my life and it took me a long time not to resent myself and the world for that.

The older you get with depression and anxiety the more tricks you learn for living with it, like an unwelcome poltergeist that took up residence inside of your own body and now the two of you are battling it out for control but recently you’ve been googling exorcism tips and you are ready to shove this ghost out on its spectral butt.

One trick is to become very, very, very aware of yourself and your personal motivations and triggers.

This way you can recognize when things or people are starting to affect you and avoid or mitigate the damage.

For me the worst place in the world, in the galaxy, in the entire scope of our currently known universe… is IKEA.

The problem is, I freakin’ love IKEA.

Build it yourself furniture? Check!

Handy dandy food court? Check!

A bag of 1000 tea lights you will never ever conceivably use but pick up anyway? Double check!

But there is just something about the layout.

The arrows on the floors telling people which way to go as they shuffle along.

People shuffle and shamble, bumbling along and bumping into me and breathing my air and getting in my personal space bubble.

It’s enough to reduce me to an incoherent mess weeping in the quietest and darkest place I can find, sometimes the weeping is shrieking just because I like to keep things interesting.

A lot of my adult life has been spent learning about other people, because I know who I am.

I know what I’ve lived through and it can be interesting to talk to people and be like “wait, you mean you’ve never thought about killing yourself, like even once?” or “wow so you just like, go about your day and don’t get overwhelmed and don’t need to control the amount of light and sound getting into your brain before you suffer a complete breakdown?”

That is so crazy to me.

That there are people who just live.