Thursday, May 17, 2018

It's been one of those days. Or week. Whatever.

I hate the unpredictability of depression. I wish I could predict when I'd be having some bad days and when I'd have some good ones, maybe then I'd feel more productive in life. But none of that happens and I find myself in days and weeks where I just can't care. Here's some of what I'm too tired to care about:


  • I'm waiting for my MRI results of my abdomen. I haven't written about it because I don't want to put the possibilities out into the world until I know what I'm actually dealing with. I'm hoping it's minor and stupid but it could be the opposite of that so I wait. I'm assuming that because it's been almost a week since my MRI that it can't be that bad otherwise they would have called right away. Right? 
  • I am 75% sure that Penelope is going to Head Start/preschool in the fall. Old Sara would feel like a terrible mother for being almost gleeful at sending a child away during the day, and she cried when the big kids went to 4 year old kindergarten for half days. I felt terrible at that but this... I'm nothing if not honest and Penelope is a LOT. She's just a whole lot to handle even on her best days and I'm desperately hoping that preschool will tame the beast, so to speak. I don't know if it's half or full days, I know next to nothing about it other than we qualify and it's just paperwork stuff now. 
  • I'm really tired of feeding my family. Their need to eat meals every day is exhausting me. I'm sick of planning the meals, shopping for the meals, cooking the meals, and cleaning up after the meals. I do all of this for everyone to complain about the meals and I just... I can't care anymore. In fact I don't actually care but I'm going through the motions and I eat nothing. 
  • I can measure my depression in the amount of books I read. When I'm doing well I can fly through books easily but when I'm not I struggle to sit still for any length of time to read. I'm currently in the beginning of two books but I just can't get any further it seems. I hate it. 
  • I am losing patience with people who try to relate their depression to mine. I just want to say they have no idea and need to shut the hell up but I don't because I also don't have the energy to fight back. 
  • I had a nice Mother's Day. Matt got me a wallet to match the fancy purse I bought in a mental health breakdown and I couldn't return and a cookbook. Probably because I was bitching about the meal situation mentioned above. We went out for lunch, we grilled for dinner, and meh. It was fine. 
  • The weather is killing me. One day it's blistering hot and the next it's so cold I wish I owned a jacket that fit me. 
  • I've become paranoid to fill out forms and documents, I'm certain I'm going to miss something or get information really wrong and not catch it or realize it. It's debilitating. I'm constantly certain I've done something wrong, forgotten something, screwed something up beyond fixing, and it's really an awful feeling. 
So those are just a few things rattling around in my head. There are more but I won't put them out there and depress you, too. 

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