State of the CW AKA Where the fuck have I been

Short story: I fell off my meds.

Which is why I hate being on medication in the first place, reguardless of how much I need it or not. Staying on medication is very, very, VERY hard for me. Especially since the problem (memory+motivation+attention span) is tied directly to the depression. And there's been stress. Lots of it. Work stress (Note: Half the shit I do at work is not and was never in my job description, and nobody else can understand it, let alone do any of it. That is not an exaggeration. That's actually part of the stress.) financial stress. Moving stress, as we have to downsize and we've been packing boxes. Oh, and I've discovered that moving and packing is yet another massive trigger.

Which I experienced off meds. Which lead to a very spectacular meltdown and several days of Not Wanting To Touch Shit. Because I had a feeling (in part due to not being on meds) that if I touched anything, it would fall apart. Whereas if I sat very still and played stupid shit on the computer, things would be okay. It's like trying to hold a bomb together with string and spit. It doesn't work.

I am still trying to get the book out. All that's left is minor editing and formatting and finishing the cover. Which is about halfway done or more.

I really, really, really do not like being sick. Especially not mentally sick, and especially not chronically sick. I want to feel better and have it be done, and I know that's never going to happen.Or if it is, it won't happen for a very, very long time.

There is no more accurate description of dealing with depression than "fighting". It's a fight. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. When it's not suicidal ideation it's just this gray meaningless fog. Or it's anxiety strong enough to immobilize. Funny, that.  I used to think of that as being something so intense you couldn't breathe. Now I understand it's just moderate, but you want it to stop so you hedge yourself in and then you just. don't. move. Because if you move, you have to feel and when you're anxious, feeling is bad.

Yes. I have an anti-anxiety drug.

In short, my lovelies: This year sucked. Hard. For a lot of people, not just me. The wheels of my wagon came off in January and have yet to get screwed back on. So many of you have been wonderful helps, I can't even begin to say how much gratitude I have for ya'll. You are one of the things that has gotten me through this year.

I'm going to reassemble my plans for things on the other side of the year, so to speak. Try to work out where to go from here. Be happy, my lovelies, and even if you can't, be well.