Slipping Down
the boy was there and held me when i cried. he stopped me when i started mumbling gibberish. he got me out of the house. he bought me grilled cheese and a malt and made me watch cartoons.
today is better but it took forever to leave my bed. minneapolis reported single digit weather all day. part of my reason for not leaving bed was attached to my lack of enthusiasm for the cold... part of it is the dread that something else will happen. i used the last of my strength to gain a few feet yesterday. i'm still very close to the bottom.
i have a better grip on things. i've actually spent a better part of the day doing work, for once. there is a good feeling attached to getting things done.
i'm tired of writing about depression. i wish that it wasn't something that so heavily painted all that i see. for example, my friend survived a bout with cancer. his view of the world has drastically changed. i can't fault him for being so sunny but sometimes it's hard to hear. i wish that i could move past my mental illness instead of looking at everything through dirty glasses.
i'd rather make some comments in my diary about other things that don't have a thing to do with my gloomy mood. i could ramble on about how much i love pickles lately but it seems pointless to ignore that i'm dealing with something else, something bigger.
i'm just fried. i've used up quite a bit of energy fighting. i'm sure to get it back soon. i just have trouble going on about something frivolous when i feel challenged to keep moving...
