Actions Speak Louder Than Words

Something is amiss.

I’m observing the depression seeping in. I’m not feeling it, I’m observing it. All the signs that point to it. I have been in my pj’s all day. Haven’t brushed my hair, or my teeth for that matter. My son asked me if I was feeling ok because I was cussing a lot. I didn’t realize I was. Internally I am calm. For so long I have associated suicidal thoughts and feelings with depression, I think I have forgotten what a “normal” depression feels like. Not that there is anything normal about all of this.

I should work out. I did last night and it was a horrible work out because my heart wasn’t in it. I was just going through the motions. Did I get an endorphin rush? Not in the least bit. I’m trying to talk myself into getting on the treadmill, but that would require me to get out of my pj’s and into other clothes.

It all started yesterday. I was already feeling off, but then shit happened. The husband yelled at the son because he unintentionally broke the weedeater. Which made my son feel like shit, on his birthday no less. But never fear! I put that fire out. I told my husband he needed to apologize because he was being too hard on the boy, to which he did… twice. Then I ordered pizza, and went to go pick it up, only to find that the pizza place moved, so I had to go find this new location….. during rush hour. What should have taken me 15 minutes, took me 40. Of course I was rushing to get home, so the husband had time to eat, because he had a meeting to get to. By the way, I discovered I need a new muffler or catalytic converter. My truck sounds like hell.

I guess I held on to all of that maybe… Or maybe it was just fodder for what was already developing.

Whatever the case may be, here I am. Hoping shit doesn’t get worse. Wishing I could just will some hypomania to happen.

What a life.

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