I'm still depressed but I have a day off today which means I've made cinnamon knots and will make tomato sauce. I don't think I've ever laid down because of depression. My kids were always fed, the laundry was done, the house was relatively clean and I went to work. Sometimes I left work crying when I couldn't cope. When my father was dying and I had been sexually assualted by a doctor at work, I took a month off work. When my step daughter told us to fuck off and they never wanted to see us again and you can never see your granddaughters again, I ended up wanting to die and was off work for three weeks over Christmas.
It comes and goes, this blackness. When Miss Katie was diagnosed it was hard, so hard. I felt like I had been sucked down into a black hole and there was no way I could ever get back out. I did eventually and limped along.
I've tried cognitive behavior therapy, talk therapy, meditation, exercise, medication, EMDR, visualization and journalling. I still take medications and they work-ish. I write, sometimes. I exercise sometimes. I cry sometimes. And still it persists.
I talked to a friend at work who has used magic mushrooms to reset her brain, successfully, but I'm not a candidate because I take anti-depressants. Ironic.
The wind is blowing and it's cold outside so I'm hanging out indoors doing laundry and cooking.
Jack came to us last night. His mama dropped him off on her way to work. He was frozen, no coat, and his pants reeked of urine. He has a nasty diaper rash again. He was sticky and dirty and quiet in the tub. His poppa held him and talked to him and put him to bed. This morning he was his old self, smiling and happy. Needless to say this doesn't help and there's nothing I can do except love him when he's here, and I do.
Life goes on, good days and bad days. Tears and laughter. This too shall pass but I wish it would hurry up.