I'm really super depressed right now.
I say a total of maybe 2 whole sentences a day, apart from the 2-word replies that I give to people when they seem to need a reply.
Apparently, I am talking too much.
The two sentences I say are just me taking up the time that other people could spend talking, and the replies I give to people are apparently always wrong.
Even when people ask me "how are you feeling?" there is apparently a wrong answer to this, as no matter what I say, they have to find something to complain about. If I say I'm not feeling well, then I'm always complaining. If I say that I'm doing fine, then I clearly must be lying, because I'm always complaining of being unwell.
The only "correct" answer is to say nothing at all.
I'm starting to get really tired of people treating me like an automaton, like the sole purpose of my existence is to mindlessly perform whatever duty needs doing, and then have them get upset when this isn't true.
I asked for 10 minutes to go home, so I could get some rest, and I couldn't, because "we don't have time for that", even though we seemingly had plenty of time to spend over half an hour at a yard sale, to buy more useless junk that there's no space for.
My father-in-law complained to me that I locked the car before he could get his coffee out, then got upset when I pointed out that he was failing to figure out how to get into a locked car, when he left his fucking window wide open, and the locking mechanism was right in front of his fucking face with no obstructions. Apparently it is my fault that I assumed he had two connecting brain cells.
Maybe it wouldn't be as irritating if it weren't for the fact that me collapsing on the floor yesterday is "inconvenient", while him having a slight cough is a "serious concern". I don't need to be a doctor to tell you that his cough is being caused by him choking down 2 packs of cigarettes daily for the past 40+ years.
(Oh, and on people saying that it might be a nerve stuck between a couple vertebrae, I have been told that 2 of the discs in my spine are too narrow, so I wouldn't be surprised.)
And in a few minutes, I have to leave to go see the psychologist again, and I'm willing to bet that they'll ignore everything I say and increase the dosage on my anti-depressants again.
I'm thinking about asking to get changed over to my old anti-depressants that I used to take that just made me numb to everything, so I can just be the fucking robot that everyone wants me to be.