Inertia

I thought, mistakenly as it turns out, that I'd escape this episode without any severe lifestyle change. I'd made it through weeks without missing a work day and had, in fact, continued to work weekends and long hours. Pleased with myself and the medication, I wondered if I was congratulating myself too soon.

I did little but sleep for the past two days, needing to take sedatives when I stopped being tired. (Not Katie-recommended, by the way. I want life to go away for a little while - not permanently. Do not take sleeping meds when depressed. It is not smart.) I talked to my parents again - they're coming up on Tuesday to check on me, though I expect I'll be somewhat better by then. I let emails go unanswered and hoped problems would be solved by a colleague. I held the covers up so Chienne could curl next to me and lifted my fingers when Sprout nuzzled my hand.

"OK," I said this morning, forcing myself to walk to the kitchen littered with cereal bowls and spoons and water glasses and make coffee. I sipped some while I put together my plan for next week, capturing items on my trusty list that had to be addressed. Closing my work laptop, I shuffled to the kitchen to put my mug on the mound of dirty dishes and frowned at them. I began to load the dishwasher, staring out the sliding door onto my deck at the comfortingly gray morning.

Pulling on a sweatshirt against the chill and slipping on flip flops, I clipped Chienne's leash to her collar and wandered outside. We moved in fits and starts as she sniffed and pranced, pleased with her outing. I decided to watch for pretty weeds as we entered the park and moved counter to the river's flow, pausing to snap pictures and smile weakly at passersby. I picked up the mail before walking back in the front door and somehow convinced myself to do a little light cleaning before flopping in the corner of my loveseat yet again.

I napped a couple hours later, kitchen clean, floors vacuumed and plants watered. After that, all forward motion ceased and I became still. After waking, I wandered downstairs and was conversely listless and restless. I tossed a book to the floor when it failed to interest me. Clicked on news stories but was unable to recall what I read. Took a bath but felt only vague disappointment when I didn't feel relaxed or sleepy as I splashed in the silky water. Instead, I stared out the octagon window above my bathtub and attempted to complete thoughts I'd started this morning when I stood and watched the river rush by.

It seems a rather sad prospect to never let another person in again. But I was never good at it - I can't remember a single instance where I easily made a friend. And I've grown to the point where I'm instantly suspicious of anyone new. It's not even a question of if I'll be hurt. Rather I wonder when and how badly or intentionally.

Unable to reach any conclusions this afternoon or morning, I examined my hands and found them pruney. I snuggled into clean pajamas and decided that at least I smelled nice. For now, there's not much more than that.