I just don’t feel like writing these days. I don’t know what it is – laziness, ennui, a complete and utter lack of anything interesting to say? Maybe all three. It’s frustrating as hell. I even have a meme sitting in the drafts that I can’t manage to finish. Things are dire when you can’t do a friggin’ meme.
I just can’t seem to get excited about anything. I stopped taking my anti-depressants because they made me feel even more foggy, but that hasn’t helped lift this lethargy and utter don’t-give-a-fuck-edness I’m enveloped in. I don’t write here, I don’t write on the NE Mamas blog any more and I have all I can do to comment on the blogs I do read, when I even bother to read those. I feel as though all the fun and happy has been sucked out of me. It’s not pleasant.
And I know the answer is to get back on anti-depressants, but they don’t make me feel that much better. I feel like I’m in a miasma when I’m on them. I can’t take any of the good ones, the ones that really work, like Zoloft or Celexa, because I’m allergic to SSRIs. So I’m stuck with the old-school drugs.
Most days are very treadmill-like around here. I slog along, not getting anywhere, not able to keep the house clean because of the two destructo children I’ve spawned, who seem to think throwing everything is how it’s done, no matter how I tell them to knock. it. off. There are flares of pure terror, like yesterday, when, despite my having locked the regular and child locks on her window, Boo managed to unlock both, open the window and the screen and had most of her upper body hanging out of the window before she was discovered. Her third floor window, oh by the way.
Today I’m buying child safety grills.
I do things, I have fun (or not) and then they almost immediately leave my head, as though they never happened. I want to enjoy my life, not feel like I’m detached and floating above it all as an impartial observer.
It just all seems so endless, like Möbius strip. I need to figure out a way to cut it.