wherein Liz's brain chemistry fucks off to Siberia, as it is wont to do upon occasion

So I woke up this morning and realized that oh, hey, utter lack of creative output for a week, plus obsessive binge reading, plus sleep schedule sliding inexorably toward seeing sunrise from the wrong side, plus a pervasive feeling that everything is pointless and gray, plus going eight hours at a stretch without eating and -- key point -- without noticing I wasn't eating, because I didn't feel hungry equals hello depression, my old friend, why the hell do you keep coming around when you know I hate you?

Ugh.

At least I have spotted the problem now. It's not like naming the beast miraculously makes it go away, but... to make a bad metaphor, now instead of running headfirst into a massive roadblock every time I try to get something done, I can say, "But wait, there is a roadblock in my way!" and allow extra time, or build a ramp, or divert around it, or whatever. (Like I said, a bad metaphor.)

And it will pass in another week or two. (Maybe three if it's a bad episode.) That's the flip side of periodicity -- the depression always comes back, but then it always goes away again. And I am so incredibly glad it does. I don't even want to contemplate dealing with this on a more permanent basis.