Each day is a new beginning.
Every night I think through what I want to accomplish the following day and go to bed with high hopes for the morning.
But so much can be lost by being tired in the morning.
By screaming cats who think they're starving while you void your bladder in a haze.
By a mess that wasn't there when you went to bed.
By a window left wide open all night long.
By construction occurring next door at exactly eight am, as though they're standing there watching the clock, just waiting for the right time to start with the jackhammer, or the power saw, or the nail gun...
Dealing with depression is difficult, to varying degrees, on the best of days.
But these are not the best of days.
These are not good days.
I've blown it. I've seen family. I've spaced visits but after being forced to endure the company of my in-laws twice in three days I had enough and invited my own father over for dinner. I am very much looking forward to seeing him tomorrow. I can barely contain myself. I do fear getting him sick - as I'm still going to work and am required to leave the house to buy food I am a risk to him and he does live with my grandmother. But it's a risk we're all willing to take - as we all take the precautions we know we must.
My mother had surgery so I spent four days with her and saw a few other family members. Three weeks have passed and none of us have fallen ill so enough is enough. Father's Day has passed and I haven't seen my dad for more than twenty minutes since Christmas.
It's fucking June.
Depression coupled with the lack of alone time... no solitude save the few moments on the porch with a cigarette or the drive to and from work, to and from the store... never enough, never what I actually need.
I need my son to go to school and my husband to go to work. I need a day. I need a week. I need time. It's hard to do anything when he is working all day in the kitchen. The hub, the heart of the house... and the inability to do much in an effort to keep the noise down so the job can be done, so the money can be made, so the bills can be paid... so I sit here... and I watch shows... and I play games... and I grow bored and the depression clings and gets heavier and then I don't know what to do because I need to do something and there's so much to do the weight of it just makes it all worse but I can't start because I can't get in the kitchen or I can't make noise or the minute I start... someone is in my way, or needs me, or needs the space I'm working in and I'm slowly going insane.
I can't clean the house without someone walking on a floor I just mopped.
Even with doorways blocked and the knowledge that the floor needs to dry the idiots just walk across them and then apologize after traveling the entire length of the room.
...at least we got an air conditioner so no more wanting to die for half the summer while we slowly bake to death inside our own house.
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