Here, there, and everywhere

I was going to blog about something completely different than what I'm about to blog about. Something all super mushy and "I love my fiancee" and blah blah "need monies to move". Instead I did something stupid.

In a public forum I denied my depression. I don't know what made me do something so crazy, but I did it. I said something along the lines of "I tried medication, but it did little and I'm fine without it". This wasn't smart because my depression sometimes acts like the metaphorical "black dog" and simply needs to be summoned to get it to crawl into my lap and hang around. Ever since making such a stupid, prideful statement my mood has incrementally gone down until just a few hours ago when I literally crawled into bed, head under the covers, planning to stay there until morning.

I can't really explain it to anyone who hasn't been there, and to those who have been there no explanation is needed. You either know or you don't know how you can go from feeling fine(ish) to yelling retreat louder than Cobra Commander as Trouble Bubbles crash around him. Oops, did I nerd at you?

Anyway, I've willed myself up and out of bed on the excuse that my Pestilence needs his pheno or he will have a seizure TODAY (he probably won't. In fact I think I want to take him to the vet and see if his meds can be cut at all.) and dishes washed and blah blah thing thing. Go. Do. That was almost enough to shake the dog, but I could and can still feel him panting on the backs of my legs. He's making it difficult to everything. Good movies are hard to watch, good books are hard to read, I even got upset with my Cujo because he was...acting like Cujo. Doing what he does every day. When it's making me angry at my dog for acting like a dog I start to wonder if maybe seeking out meds again isn't a bad idea. And then I remember: out medical system sucks and, if the republicans and republican voting democrats get their way, always will. The hoops I have to jump through to get the drugs make the damn feelings worse.

I wish my actual dogs heeled as well as this one.

Talking about it helps. Too bad I never do that. Ever. I think sometimes the painkillers make it worse as well. Opioids. Morphine. Depressants, right? But can't skip those or I'm in bed with the covers over my head for a whole other reason. 22: caught. I see what you did there, universe. Very clever. Very cunning.

Ah well, such is my lot in life. At least I've found an amazing woman who puts up with all my shit. She's really too good for me, you know.

Anyway, I think there's only one movie for the next 5 to go up. All The President's Men. Been looking forward to watching that, actually. It's possible Forrest Gump is in this section. I could check, but that doesn't sound like me.