Posted by Ilene on March 28, 2004, at 22:09:59
In reply to Dear diary March 27, posted by Ilene on March 27, 2004, at 21:59:13
It's getting late, I want to go to bed soon. The gray cat is in his usual place (my lap). He's shedding--the keyboard is sure to be getting gunked up with fur--but it's so, so, soft. He's still a jerk, no matter how much he claims to love me.
Today was better, today was worse. Last night I went to bed about 11:30, but did not sleep too well. That always gets me more depressed than if I sleep well. I took my vitamins (I ran out of magnesium days and days ago and haven't replaced it), but I almost forgot my *meds* until I felt the familiar crunch of anxiety in my gut. I haven't had that for a few days, but I always take Klonopin first thing.
Got the kid late to Sunday School, but found the next-closest location of my favorite grocery store (the closer one closed). /begin rant/ I'm picky about grocery stores because I am picky about food. I never got over the fact that there are no butcher shops in this part of the world, and everything is wrapped in styrofoam and plastic. It's an insult to food. /end rant/
After Sunday School I took him to a soccer store and got him a new pair of cleats. I was dreading it, but we were in and out in minutes. "Only" $65 lighter, too. The poor little duck has a giant blister from wearing last season's shoes to his first practice and game. He's also go an immense bunion--he inherited my wretched feet (have I said I hate my feet? I hate my feet). He's had a bunion since he was four. I keep looking for high heels in his closet--"everyone knows" that bunions are caused by wearing high heels. He also needs regular shoes. That doesn't seem so dreadful now. Maybe we will do it next weekend, or during spring break.
Okay. Depressed and anxious morning, suicidal ideation starting. Forced myself to chat with grocery clerk. Told myself I would *lie down* and *put my swollen feet up* (I feel so effin' geriatric) but it took so long to put away the groceries. grab a bite, return phone calls. . . that by the time I got a cushion and something to read my son and his friend announced they needed to go to the friend's house to get a blank videotape in order to finish their class project.
Did that, and then called returned a call to an old friend in California while sitting in bed with the feet up. That was good. She was disturbed by my stay in the psych ward. I guess she doesn't know too many other crazy people. She's fun to talk to.
Then reached my other friend, who is going to stay here for a few days while she works on a project. I'm half excited, and half worried, because I don't know if I'm up to doing anything, and my house is *messy*.
Lying down must have done some good, because I had the energy to spend nearly an hour and a half on my feet cooking dinner. Pasta with sausage and broccoli--plenty of broccoli--and plenty of leftovers. Even did some of the dishes.
Did a little sewing. Would have done more, but I didn't want to get in the habit of staying up late. I am a regular night owl, and once I let myself go, I will stay up later and later.
Wanted to ramble on more about my emotional state, but it's after 11 PM.