First of the Year

Happy New Year, everyone!

Anyone? Well, me.

Woke up in the night from not just a scary dream, but an evil one--someone who was not normal mentally / emotionally was pursuing me with a knife. Ick.

Was in the bathroom before my shower, reached down to scratch my ankle and pulled my shoulderblade. Sharp, shooting pain--ow.

Read some more of "Blink", really enjoying it.

Doing laundry, going out soon to get margarine.

Need to find a job. Okay.

Good enough for now.

Depression and Me

I'm not really depressed. My therapist told me, early on, that I was dysthymic, which meant instead of the ultra-highs with depression, I just get "exhilarated".

Hmmph.

I'm on a mood leveler, Lexapro, 30mg/day (one 20mg tablet and a second tablet snapped in half). It's a daily practice, one I've tried to keep to with religious fervor, because if I wind up skipping a day...or more...when I run out...and don't or can't renew the prescription...dumbass...I get kinda emotionally unstable.

I feel less grounded, less centered, less in control of my emotions and reactions to them and to other people (hey sweetie!), more reactive (in a bad way), less thoughtful or mindful of what's happening to me as a result.

But I'm not under indictment for anything that I've done while off my meds. And that's a good thing!

From the Revolution Health Network,

Exercise isn't a cure for depression or anxiety. But its psychological and physical benefits can improve your symptoms.

"It's not a magic bullet, but increasing physical activity is a positive and active strategy to help manage depression and anxiety," says Kristin Vickers-Douglas, Ph.D., a psychologist at Mayo Clinic, Rochester, Minn.

So right now I'm aware that I need to exercise and that I'm not making the time to do that.

Dumbass? Yes...

So Obama won the election, strange people are coming for Thanksgiving next week, Christmas is coming and there are birthdays right behind Christmas.

I'm fat, I hate the way I look, I have no money of my own and I'm afraid to go back to work.

Sigh.

I suppose confession is good for the soul, but there's no guarantee that it'll be my soul that it's good for.