I’m writing from my phone with one fat finger; a cat asleep at my feet and a husband asleep next to me. It’s a civic holiday here in Canada, so he’s off work. And it’s nap time in our humble abode.
My sweet husband took me out for a drive today so I could get some photo therapy. It *did* make me feel better! Kisses to him!
Look at this gorgeous scene! OMG, I love where we live SO MUCH!
He drove me because I just didn’t have the desire or energy to drive his car. My Ruby is still stuck in the driveway… for longer than we originally bargained for… thanks to the hospital parking fiasco of last week. (Sorry I cant link it. Don’t know how to do it from my phone. It’s on a blog post from last Tuesday.)
The thing is, I couldn’t (can’t) tell if I’m just nervous, anxious and sad about our life right now … or … actually … you know… depressed.
I HATE IT!
And really, does it matter?
Do I need to label this?
You know what? I think it’s an important question, actually.
And my answer is, “No!”
In the end, I feel what I feel and that’s that.
I am grateful for my husband, who didn’t really want to go out but did… just for me. We splurged on dollar iced coffees from McDonalds and that was a nice treat. I took some pretty pictures and recharged in the sun next to water and got outside, at least for a little while.
We have so many things up in the air right now. Most will affect our finances and will ultimately be decided by other people or entities. Am I sick of money problems? Uh, yeah. No matter what I seem to do, it follows me. I am the common denominator! It’s a heavy, powerful belief I carry. I have been working on it for YEARS. I don’t get why I can’t move beyond it… unless I chose this life before I was born. Of course, I would have to believe in reincarnation. But I digress.
The last five years had the potential for great growth. And yes, I have grown.
Is that the depression talking?
Or is it reality?
Folks, this (truly!) is what mental illness looks like for some people.
In my life, it’s a constant battle.
Even when you work hard at healing. Even when you take your meds. Even when you are a self-help whisperer.
At least for me.
I didn’t want to go another day not writing. So, this is me, being me.
Some days, it just sucks.