Sunday was the first of October, and yesterday was the second. Innocuous dates to everyone, and the words “Time passes so fast!” and “It’s October already?!” keep being repeated by almost everyone I’ve met.
Time has no meaning for me. Day by day, I awake, and wonder why.
I think the best way to sum up my progress so far would be to say that I’ve been questioning a lot. The added medication has helped me to sleep, albeit with me talking a lot in my sleep, and disturbing my poor wife. But I never sound intelligible, so she usually goes right back to sleep, and I never really remember what I dream about anyway. Hopefully it’s nothing important.
Today was not a good day, strictly speaking. The night before had been spent trying to figure out whether I wanted to cry or not, after a day of highs. It was discouraging, that after a whole day of good feelings, I ended the day wanting to cry, but not being able to really release myself to cry. I managed to get to sleep anyway, but it didn’t feel good.
I went for my checkup yesterday. It’s kind of flustering when one of the first things the doctor said was that he’d caught up on my blog before calling me in. But it’s also a bit, uh, stressful, especially when I updated him on something and his response was “You didn’t put that on your blog?”
One of the most interesting conversations I’ve had in the midst of this long emotional roller coaster came up when I was taking a long walk with a good friend, and a fellow sufferer of depression. He told me that I need to listen more to my inner child.
It came to me when I was young. It was a small dog, eager to please. I was facing a difficult time, and it felt good to have a puppy with me, to help me through my sadness, to help me adjust to a new environment. And it did really help, giving me joy even though I shouldn’t have indulged it. I had no one to speak to, as I didn’t know who to speak to. The puppy gave me direction, and I fed it, petted it, and watched it grow.
The past week has been hard to characterise, so I haven’t been writing much other than the interlude. That was something that wrote itself in my head. At times like this, I simply let the words out, and edit them into a semblance of something that doesn’t make a grammar nazi scream and splash their computer screens with red ink. I’m somehow not proud of that particular piece of writing. It cuts too close to the bone.
Wife had her first teaching class today, so I woke up to an empty house for once. The boys had gone to school earlier in the day. My job for the day was simple – to jaga (guard, or look over) them when they were home about lunch time, and to make sure they were fed. My wife would be home shortly after that.