I have a confession. I've been on antidepressants since January. They helped me a bit at first, but I feel like it's not enough anymore.
My birthday is on Saturday. Usually, by this time, I'm jumping up and down like a little kid. I love my birthday. It's the only time of the year when I can worry about just me and having fun. This year, it's totally lackluster. Ok, that's putting it mildly. I just plain don't care. I have plans to go to B.A.D. Bingo (night bingo with fun lights and a DJ) with some friends, but honestly I would rather stay home. Just curl up in my jammies and fall asleep early.
I know what is wrong with me. I've been fighting depression for at least the last 8 months. With stressing about my son, J having his own custody issues with his daughters, gaining weight and not being able to do anything about it with my broken foot, medical bills, etc. it's just all so overwhelming. I feel like if I can make it out of this damn boot, things will start turning around. I know it won't solve anything, but maybe I could at least get off the couch and start living again.
I see a counselor regularly and I just texted her to see if I can get an appt. She is really good and I'm surprised she hasn't said anything before now about me. She was the one who called it back in January.
Also, I woke up to the beginnings of a cold sore. Happy birthday to me.
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