The difference between just having a bad day and being depressed is so bizarre.
I’m starting to adjust to my new normal. I never realized that it’s perfectly fine to be a grumpy ass bitch sometimes without feeling like I’m also absolutely doomed.
Today started out rather well even though I had a rough night, waking up every couple of hours. (I am either a heavy sleeper or a light sleeper, there is no in-between.)
I woke up jazzed to start my day. I got up, let the dogs out, went to the bathroom, fed the cat and gave him his insulin shot. I let the dogs back in and fed them their chow.
I made myself a lovely cup of coffee, with French vanilla creamer, my favorite.
Then I read the news.
Yeah, the world has gone to shit and much of what’s going on is quite scary. I know that there isn’t all that much I can do about things but it still brings me down. It’s sort of hard not to feel uneasy unless you seriously don’t give a damn, which I’m just unable to do.
I got dressed to go to my TMS therapy. I have 8 more to go. I’m really going to miss the young lady technician that gives me my treatments, so I’m bummed out about that. I was supposed to go visit with my friends but that got canceled.
I figured, well, there are so many things that I want or need to do! I felt really motivated to make it a productive day.
Until I didn’t.
I’ve been really tuckered out lately. With much of my mental health issues slowly fading over the last few weeks, I’ve almost forgotten that I still have fibromyalgia.
fucker sucker ain’t going anywhere.
I made jello!
But I’m not depressed, overly anxious, or thinking icky thoughts.
It’s just been a typical lousy day.
I fucking love it.