I suppose that if I'm sitting around wondering if I am depressed that means I am not actually depressed. I'm trying to think back to the two times in my life when I was actually clinically depressed and I do not recall ever tossing around the question.
But I'm older and wiser and hopefully more self aware now, so there is that.
Motivation is a huge issue for me, and by motivation, I mean just going through the mail seems like a huge victory, and I let it pile up for days on end before I sift through the piles of mostly recycling and pull out the bills to pay. Cooking seems like climbing a mountain every day. If I didn't have Josh here I'm not sure I would be doing it at all. Something that completely concerns me is that I've been napping every day. I do not like napping, I hate that groggy feeling waking up from a nap and I also hate how it messes up going to bed at night since I don't have to option of waking up what ever time I want to in the morning.
I suppose I do have the option to sleep as late I want in the morning, but I choose to be the kind of mom who makes her kid breakfast every day. That's because, as a kid, I had to leave my house at 6:50AM in order to get to my 8:15 first class on time when I was in high school and my mom told me it would not be possible for her to wake that early but I should give her a little shake and let know I was leaving every morning. So I would get up, shower, dress, and on my out the door, I'd tip toe into her bedroom where she and my dad were fast asleep and shake her shoulder and tell her I was leaving. Needless to say I was amazed by my classmates whose mothers made them breakfast and packed them brown bag lunches every day and decided back then that I would be that kind of warm and fuzzy mom. I didn't eat breakfast and if I ate lunch it was something I purchased from the food cart on the corner outside my school. So, as an adult, I wake up every morning and do those things I wished were done for me. Sometimes I ask Josh to buy his lunch at school, but 95% of the time I hand him something in a thermos that I hope will stay warm until he can eat it. It's important to me that my kids know without a shadow of a doubt that they are loved, cherished, wanted and valued by me every single day.
Anyways, I'm wondering if I'm actually depressed or just a sad hostage to a demented husband.
Probably the latter.
I wouldn't take antidepressants if I was depressed, because these things solve themselves for me, so there really isn't a reason to pursue this any farther.
I do also feel like I am somehow in a survivalist modern day ice age movie since it's April 18th and its still so cold every night that I have to wear my long down coat to the dog park every morning. I also wear a scarf and gloves and maybe a second layer of polar fleece underneath. What the hell, weather?? I was afraid that I was being a bit of a wimp until I realized that everyone was wearing the same gear they were wearing in February, so we are all feeling the hurt here.
At least I dusted off the camera and photographed today. The light was right. I was feeling it. I knew that the temps would be working their way to 40 (easier on my hands holding the camera without gloves) if I walked for an hour or so before actually shooting. My head was in the right space. Last night I took a long hot bath, which is where, for some reason, I begin to assemble visual ideas to inspire me to write poetry, which is pretty much describing to metaphorical visual ideas I build and refine in my imagination while in my bath. I need to figure out some way to place a pad and pen within reach of the tub. Sometimes I come up with so many ideas that I can only recall the most recent ones by the time I towel off and grab writing material.