Today's one of those days that I wish I'd never gotten out of bed.
I feel like tears are just beneath the surface, eager to break out at the first provocation.
Yesterday all of my tasks at work felt like I had them humming along, 50 channels of multi-tasking juggled as deftly as Michael Davis ever handled chainsaws.
Today I feel like every damn one is behind schedule, I can't possibly complete them, more work is spilling over my transom every minute and my next task will be the one that shows everyone around me that I'm average and weak and I've been faking excellence my whole life.
We always seem in a rush at home. When I'm not depressed, that feels like we're living a full life. When I'm tottering, it's just a source of more stress.
Untreated depression is just a slow march to suicide.
But even depression that's well under treatment --- and between my pshrink and my meds, my depression IS well under treatment --- rears a nightmarish head every once in a while.
I've been awake during many of the same hours as our pet hamster Ted this week and it's catching up with me. I'm finally losing the 5 pounds or so I've been trying to diet off for months, but it's because I have little appetite. My temper is short.
Still, the meds help put a floor under things. There's no spiraling downward past sad.
I feel blue, but not anything much worse. I get up, feed Monkeyboy, shower, put on a suit and run him to school. I resist the temptation to dash back home, call in sick. I attend committee meetings at shul, continue my tutoring and tend to the laundry and trash at home. I trust that tomorrow, or the next day, will be better than today.
I recognize the anchors my dear ones provide to keep me upright and weathering another day. I'm grateful.
I just wish the clouds would dissipate faster.
[Note to ANON1: I know this looks like a softball. Please do me a favor and resist it. Thanks.]