Depression does not care about your plans.

I sat down to write a blog that had been ruminating in my mind for maybe a week now, and when I tried to get it into words, it fell apart.   Sometimes that happens.  Sometimes the words just aren’t there, or the thought isn’t cohesive enough, and I just can’t make it sound the way I want it to in my head.

I’ve had a few rough days.  On Friday, I went to a sunflower field.  It was lovely to stand surrounded by my favorite flower, looking at all the varieties and watching the bees hard at work, but my depression was creeping in and I could feel it.  By evening, when I found myself at the Irish Festival with my parents and husband, it was starting to manifest itself into a panic no Guinness could cure.   On Saturday, Mark suggested a long drive to take my mind off of things, and that worked for a bit but when I came home I sunk into my sofa, and had to drag myself to the kitchen to make dinner.  Sunday was no better.  Today I feel a little cheerier, but I certainly don’t have the energy and concentration to pen the long blog I had been planning on earlier in the week.

Somedays depression kicks my ass.  Somedays it doesn’t.  Just gotta keep pushing on.




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