Some thoughts.
I finally replaced the light bulbs in my room. There are three, and over time, that number had been reduced to one, which popped early last week. I cannot remember the last time I had all three bulbs working simultaneously, but it is fucking bright in here; it feels like a hospital.
I am running late to sleep...tomorrow promises to be a very trying day, so I have OCD'd everything out for the morning -- the coffee is ready to go, the laundry is bagged and by the door, lunch is made, and my floor has a clean path from the bed to the bathroom to the kitchen. How exciting it all seems.
I am trying to relax now. I have removed the offensive lighting, and I am enjoying a tall, frosty beer out of an iced pilsner glass to no avail. It would seem relaxation is not so easily coaxed. I have made numerous forays into responsibility going so far as to begin cleaning the kitchen, a task not to be taken lightly, but nothing is helping much. My mind has decided that I do not deserve to relax (or sleep for that matter) and that is the end of that.
I think that the worst thing one can do for depression is hide it (by necessity or otherwise) to engage in fickle social scenarios (work, acquaintances, large groups of people, etc). It would seem that depression accumulates interest at an exponential rate, and when it finally gets its chance to cash in, whammo, you had better wish it stops at breaking your kneecaps.
Welcome to this week. I hope to see you there.
I am running late to sleep...tomorrow promises to be a very trying day, so I have OCD'd everything out for the morning -- the coffee is ready to go, the laundry is bagged and by the door, lunch is made, and my floor has a clean path from the bed to the bathroom to the kitchen. How exciting it all seems.
I am trying to relax now. I have removed the offensive lighting, and I am enjoying a tall, frosty beer out of an iced pilsner glass to no avail. It would seem relaxation is not so easily coaxed. I have made numerous forays into responsibility going so far as to begin cleaning the kitchen, a task not to be taken lightly, but nothing is helping much. My mind has decided that I do not deserve to relax (or sleep for that matter) and that is the end of that.
I think that the worst thing one can do for depression is hide it (by necessity or otherwise) to engage in fickle social scenarios (work, acquaintances, large groups of people, etc). It would seem that depression accumulates interest at an exponential rate, and when it finally gets its chance to cash in, whammo, you had better wish it stops at breaking your kneecaps.
Welcome to this week. I hope to see you there.