I've figured out the problem with the neglect blogging* I do. You see, I think of things to post all the time, but usually forget about them by the time I've
won the epic nightly bedtime battle gotten my cherubs to bed. Or by that point the thought of opening my laptop and even marginally engaging my brain enough to write a post just exhausts me. This goes on until my brain reaches a critical mass. By that point, I usually have something unpleasant (or, at best, annoying) that needs to be vomited out. As a result, instead of getting a post full of mostly happy bits and blurbs, you're getting my angsty whining instead. Sorry.
I hesitate to say that I'm feeling depressed again because I don't really feel depressed, but I sure am acting like it. Mentally and emotionally, I feel ok - not super happy and upbeat, but certainly not like jumping off a bridge or anything. But I'm also having trouble focusing, eating everything that's not nailed down for no discernible reason, wanting to sleep 20 hours a day, and isolating myself. I've got a bunch of low-level anxiety humming through me constantly, but I'm pretty sure that's a situational thing.
Nothing's really changed that would have triggered the depression, as far as I can tell. I was accidentally off my meds for about five days last month - I waited too long to refill my prescription, which didn't have any refills left; I realized I was out of meds on Friday night; my psychiatrist was either on vacation or refusing to refill my script because I'm due for an appointment (if the latter was the case, I never got a call from his office or anything, and I wasn't due for an appointment until now-ish); the stupid online refill thing for my family doc is a pain in the ass and kept insisting that I really wanted my script to go to a branch of my pharmacy that is far, far from my house; and etc. - but I was fine as soon as I started back up, and that was a while ago. The general, steady shitstorm of crap that makes up my life is just as general and steady as it always is. It's been almost three months since my last therapy appointment. I think my brain is backed up and I really just need to talk to someone.
And therein lies the problem. My therapist has retired. She gave me the names of three other people I can call (one of whom B and I saw for our failed attempt at marriage counseling a year or so ago, and I'm not so sure I'd like him for my therapist), but the thought of starting over again with a new therapist makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry. I feel like going in and just telling the new person my immediate concerns would be worthless; without context, I'm not going to get good advice. But to give context, I need to start at the beginning and I really, really don't feel like reliving and rehashing my whole life, particularly the past five years that my former (*weep*) therapist has lived through with me.
I know I'm eventually going to have to get over myself and call someone new. But I just don't wanna. I want my old therapist, dang it! I'll make the call(s) when I get over my snit.
So there's my angst and whine. I'll give you happy stuff next time.
* Yes, I've named my lazy-ass style of blogging to make it sound more like a choice and less like...well, laziness. Just go with it.