I've been blogging for almost a year, although anyone with eyes will see that I haven't blogged much lately.
Truth is, I've been in quite a funk. Probably clinically depressed. Probably need to quit procrastinating and go see a doctor. This runs in my family: my grandmother, my mother, my daughter...do you see who's missing from that chain of evidence?
I tell you this not for sympathy, etc. Just explaining.
I don't know if the world situation is getting worse (though I think it is) or if the warranty on my ability to cope with it has expired. Then, trying to sit down to write has actually filled me with dread lately. Anyway, who wants to know the inner workings of my brain? Most days even I don't want to.
In the end, though, I'm like so many others.
I hope that someone does.
So there you are. Some of what's working in my brain. Thanks to all the people who have stopped by or e-mailed and made little (or big) encouraging noises to coax me out of the darkness.
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3 comments:
Ah, missymusing,
Several years ago I went to a therapist (not a medical-doctor shrink) and not for the first time, but I was as savvy as she regarding where my head was and what I needed to be doing. I was telling HER and it wasn't any kind of revelation for me.
I got tired of saying I already know that or I already do that and quit going.
I only just recently started taking over-the-counter pain relievers at bedtime because I wake up very stiff and sore otherwise. My whole life I've been a pill-avoider, but I'm beginning to think that's what it's going to take to readjust the chemicals in my brain. Other people, not just tv ads, tell me it helps.
My real fear is that pills won't help.
I had my thyroid checked years ago. Not that. Darn it.
Your story did make me smile. Pathetic woman (her, not you!).
I suspect neither of us actually needs a doctor to tell us anything. Three things in particular got to me recently. One is the ubiquitous tv ad for Whatever Pill that has the "depression hurts" tagline. The first woman, the one who gives up and lies down on the couch...
The second thing was a PSA on NBC not even addressed to me. It was scolding certain parents -- I think in domestically abusive households -- that making their children witness such things could lead them to a life of depression and anxiety.
Really?
And the third thing was my daughter's before-and-after story regarding whatever they put her on recently. Not Prozac; something newer.
My worst symptom is overwhelming fatigue. I've had it since my junior year of high school. It gets better but it never completely goes away, and it's really bad right now, nearly crippling. In the past I've gone to the sleep clinic (not sleep apnea); I've had the thyroid test (not the thyroid).
Maybe I'll make that phone call tomorrow. Maybe I'll then prod you to do so, too!
(This was more than anyone wanted to know, yes?)
Dear Bitty,
I am combining both of your entries and remembering an event in my life. Your "dumper" was a priest in my case to whom I turned for advice. Same ending. We definitely need a good, long and chat.
Love,
Alanna
Alanna,
The difference is one has few expectations from a dump-minder. "Behave yourself" is all. A priest, though...that's major betrayal.
And of course see missymusing's story above for another betrayal of trust.
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