Saturday I was FINE. Actually spent a couple hours watching the Cardinals game with my mom, just her and me. Having her to myself is pretty rare these days with the grandkids running around. It was nice.
Sunday I was FINE. I took my kids to the pool. We grilled out for father's day and stuffed ourselves on hotdogs and ice cream. I stayed up late chatting with a couple good friends- and laughing hysterically long into the night with one of them.
Monday I was... not so fine. I thought I was just tired, I just needed to sleep. It's the nerve pain bringing me down, I said. If it would rain so the pressure would ease I'd be FINE.
Today I know- I'm not fine. But I can't say why. It's not the first time its happened. It's not just feeling blue or sad. I know depression is more than that. You can't just shake it off. I've gone through it before, I'll go through it again.
I just hate that it comes from nowhere, out of the blue. I'm not sick (or not more so than "normal"); nothing bad happened; I even spent time outside under the blue sky feeling the breeze on my face, letting the heat soak into my bones to warm me, inside and out. It was calm and beautiful- and I didn't care. It didn't bring a smile to my face or ease this feeling inside. This feeling I can't even put into words. A feeling of... not. I'm not really happy, but I'm not exactly sad. I'm not really tired, but I'm not exactly awake; I'm not hungry; I'm not thirsty; I'm not living. I'm just... not.