Someone (I can’t think who) refers to my low episodes as ‘dips’ in mood. It’s a poor word, except for the fact that when I come out of it I feel like it’s still clinging to me as dip does to a chip (or ‘crisp’ if you prefer). I have so much to look forward to, cos I’m not out of it yet (but I’m sure I’ll come out at some point).
I noticed I was getting bad last week, but kept on going pretending I was fine because I didn’t want to be dipping. I didn’t want to be depressed, so I pretended I wasn’t seeing signs on oncoming depression.
It’s here now, so I’m at the point of apathy. Whatever. Don’t care. I’ll hang out here for a while, pretending to function when I leave the house, curling up in a ball letting Jake run riot when I’m at home, and feeling disgusted at myself for being the worst mother ever, and yet not actually giving enough of a shit to pull myself together and start the cleansing processes. It takes more than a shower to get rid of the dip residue, and I’ve lost the floor of the house. Seems it’s gone into hibernation beneath a layer of toys. I think it has the right idea, and if you come by and you can’t find me, check under the toys.
I’m ready to quit everything.
I’ve been working through the edit of ‘Evacuation’ that came through. So many changes! I didn’t think I was that crap. Plus I’m being asked to supply workshop stuff. Ummmm… Yeah. Ok. Doing it, but… *sigh*
I’ll try not to quit, but who cares anyway? Not me. For now.
I know I’d hate myself if when I came out the far, sticky, side and found I’d quit everything.
But I don’t have the energy for anything.
Hope you’re smiling, even if I’m not.