“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.” -Laurell K. Hamilton
I am giving this my best effort to write. I am in a depression once again but it is not a deep depression. Creativity comes easier to me when I am in a deep depression for some reason. My brain likes it when I am suffering and then it lets me write ridiculous poems about monocled fish that speak French and such. This kind of depression is a zombie depression. One where I am lost and don’t want to go anywhere, nor see anyone, nor get up in the morning, nor even talk (that’s a first). The sadness is kept away by the Risperidon leaving me with a hollow feeling but the drive to live is not there nor is the happiness seen in anything. Everything just IS….totally FLAT….to the point I feel like I am barely breathing.
Yet I feel I am down but not out because I know it could be worse, it has been a few months back. I’m also trying to harness some positive energy even if I don’t want to. I figure too bad, do it anyway. Try to smile. Tomorrow when my father’s health aide comes to visit him I will have to pretend to be cheerful and put on a happy face, so if I can do it then I can try other times. I just wish it was like the old days and came naturally. I was a wild woman and would light up a room. Now I am an old, tired dust mop standing in the corner. Oh well, it will be my Dad’s birthday tomorrow too. He’ll be 95. Too bad his dementia prevents him from really knowing what it is and the significance of his age. My older daughter made him a cake and we have a card for him that he may tear up but that’s to be expected.
I’m considering doing one of those 30 day challenges again just to do something because I am at a loss for words. Maybe a photo challenge or finish one of my other ones (finally). I’ll see tomorrow.