Yesterday I wrote about how if it looks like I'm bored, it's because I'm particularly in the dumps with my depression. Well, that rang true today. This morning, after the ladies left for work and school, I had some laundry going, but I had to have my morning constitutional. It wasn't nice or clean. But when I was done and managed to drag myself out of the restroom, our new cat Nora was on our naked bed, having a grand time making noise, skittering over the moisture-locking mattress cover (it's not a rubber sheet, we're not wetting the bed or anything, you're wetting the bed, don't look at me).

I laid down across the bed and joined in the fun, making noise with my fingers and she was entertained. Then Devo hopped up and, didn't exactly join in on the fun, but he was there and interested. When Nora lost interest, I tried to just relax. I don't have to be anywhere, no one is expecting me, just have a quiet moment to myself before I tackle a Rev project or look at job postings.

Let me digress for just a moment: I don't nap. I have napped, of course when I was kid and the odd moment here and there where I was just totally exhausted (I think my buddy Frank has a picture of me conked out on a plane when I swore I wasn't asleep). But, if it's daytime? My body is awake. Even if I'm tired and want to just rest and not doing anything, I've got that mile-a-minute racing thoughts problem. I can't nap.

I had had coffee and breakfast and gotten around and dressed and started chores and had a shite, I should be awake for the day. Well, twice I woke myself up snoring in the span of an hour. A catnap, with the cats.

It wasn't refreshing. In fact, it was distressing. Am I so worked up that I'm literally shutting down? Is my brain hitting the blue screen of death? I'm not bored, I have things to do around the house, the aforementioned chore of laundry, bed sheets and clothes, I need to clean up in the garage after making a minor mess selling some old musical equipment. I should tackle something on Rev. I need to be looking for a job, sending out my resume, checking emails, making phone-calls. Yet, I crashed, and early in the day after already being awake for two hours. That's not normal. Not for me anyway.

I did get up, though. I did complete a transcription project. I did apply for a couple of jobs. And after getting home from picking up the ANT from school, I made the bed, I folded my laundry, and now I'm doing the CBT thing by sitting down to write and admitting, recognizing, that I'm falling apart.

Tomorrow I have my next therapy appointment. I also made an appointment to follow up after my panic attack with the nurse practitioner that saw me that day. She had mentioned checking out my thyroid, for checking's sake, I guess. I also want to discuss the incredibly tight pain in both my neck and guts. I say pain, but it's more like a dull, persistent throb, I'm coping and have been for...ages.

This is still a journey of getting better. Getting better at writing. Getting better at handling my depression. Getting better at living with my anxiety. Getting better at being a decent gd human being. Yeah, my problems are minor compared to others in the world, I don't want to be a complainer (but, boy can I do it good), but one person's worst is really their worst. It's a relative, situational thing, and much like that time I floated (not an IT reference), I feel like I'm at the bottom of a well. The light is far above me, and the water is deep beneath me. There may be ways out in the depths, but I've been treading water for so long.

"Where the fear has gone...
Only I will remain."

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