Knowing what's wrong with me doesn't really help me feel better.

I can feel my depression getting bad again.  Not as bad as it sometimes gets, but bad enough.  And I know that I have no real reason to be depressed.  I know that the way I feel is caused by some screwed up chemical reaction in my brain.  But knowing what is causing me to feel this way doesn't fix the way I feel, anymore than knowing that I have a broken leg fixes the broken leg.

I feel so helpless against this disease.  There is nothing that I can do to fix myself.  There is very little that can even mitigate the worst of it.  All I can do is endure.  And enduring is not really the same as living.  I wish I could live an ordinary life.  Actually, I wish that I could live an extraordinary life, but an ordinary life would be a vast improvement over the way I live now.

My depression makes me feel helpless and hopeless.  My anxiety makes me afraid to even try to change things, and my sleep disorder means that I feel even more alienated from humanity because I am so out of sync with the rest of the world.

So even though I know exactly what's wrong with me, I still can't fix it.  Even broken legs heal in time, but I am not healing.  I may actually be getting worse.  It's hard to tell.  I guess I just have to keep enduring until I can't endure any more. 

And this isn't even a particularly bad day.