Damn Depression

My sweetie told me he was going to do something after he finished reading the paper.  He told me I was going to be impressed.  Right now, I am watching him vacuum.  I'm not impressed.  I am mad.  And, now that he has finished vacuuming, he announces that he is going to launder the sheets.  I am even more mad. 

Of course, I am not mad at him.  I am mad at my depression.  We have got into this ritual which we call every weekend.  On Friday, I announce that I am going to rest and restore myself from the week, so we are just going to relax but I have a plan for the rest of the weekend.  I tell him that we are going to wake up early on Saturday, go for a walk, and then do a deep clean.  If we both devote an hour to each room, we should be done by early afternoon and have a sterile environment. 

Saturday morning dawns and I declare that I am just not feeling the love. I say that restoration relaxation is an important aspect of life.  We will just relax and we will move the plan to Sunday. 

Sunday comes and well, it is now 1:37 pm and I am still on the couch while my sweetie is doing some housework while I watch.  Believe me, I desperately want to be doing housework.  I used to love vacuuming and dusting and having a really clean space.  I just have no motivation.  I really want to do things but I seem to have my butt glued to the couch. 

I don't enjoy having depression one bit.  I don't enjoy using every ounce of energy I have just to get through the week so that I have nothing in reserve for the weekend.  I don't like being this tired all the time and never feeling reested. 

I am grateful that I have a wonderful partner who understands and supports.  I am grateful that I am always motivated to tell him how much I love him.  Andrew, you are so much more than I deserve and I don't know why you put up with me. 

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