Trí labra ata ferr túa...

In my neverending quest to de-stigmafy (it's a word now, dammit) mental illness, I need to be honest. I haven't been particularly well. I haven't been back to my self-harming, stay in bed all day levels, but I've been... meh. Sleeping when my body isn't tired, mindlessly watching the Cooking Channel, even avoiding Facebook because it's just too damn much work.

When clicking the little squares to "harvest" imaginary crops is too much work, it's time to take inventory.

Some of this is my own damn fault. I haven't been taking vitamins, I've occasionally been somewhat spotty in taking my meds. They get taken 95% of the time, but of that maybe only 75% of the time am I taking them at the times I should be, which screws further with my sleep patterns. I'm not eating enough protein with breakfast or drinking a cup of coffee in the morning, two things I absolutely must do to overcome the sedative effects of the Lexapro I take.

Some of this is not my fault. I lost an aunt last week, and buried her at the beginning of this one. I was not particularly close with her, but have found that there is a hole in my inner patchwork where she's supposed to be. Her loss was also incredibly hard on my other aunt, with whom I am very close. To say nothing of my father and my uncle. Dealing with my mother was stressful, to say the least, as her stress levels rose above what her anti-anxiety drugs could deal with.

Also there has been a significant hiccup in my home life. Since some of you readers do actually know me in real life, I'm going to abstain from details, at least for now. I will say that it did not involve infidelity, and that my husband and I are going to be putting some really nice therapists' kids through college. That being said, though, it has sucked. It has sucked royally. It has sucked like Queen Elizabeth's very own private Dyson vacuum cleaner. It's left me sad, angry, and frustrated. And, quel suprise, depressed.

On top of this, it has become readily apparent that adjuncting just isn't bringing in enough money. I love doing it, but I can't afford to anymore. So I have begun my first active job search in about 9 years. God, I'd forgotten how much I loathe it.

So where do I go from here? I called mein guter Ehemann and told him how overwhelmed I felt. As always, he stepped up to the plate. We have made plans. Trader Joe's is a godsend for breakfasts you can grab and go. We're going to work on the practical aspects of our problems together tonight. I will double down on my self-care efforts, including getting my behind into the gym on a regular basis.

Sadly, I am not one of those people who get depressed sometimes, or who have one or two episodes in his or her lifetime. Those are awful enough, don't get me wrong. But this is an everyday struggle and it just gets so old sometimes, and I feel so powerless. But as I said about a year ago, onward I go. It's hard, but it's the only way to go.

Read it. Now.

Because I couldn't say it on the phone