- Apr 5, 2015
- Valley of dry bones
It took 3 appointments with at least 6 weeks between each, for him to realize how bad my depression is. He FINALLY decided to double the dose of my antidepressant, but I can't help but feel that if he had done that 6 weeks ago I could be in a much better place already, with a clean, tidy apartment, not praying every day for there to NOT be a notice of entry from the building manager on my door. I have also been begging God that there will be no emergency access needed into my apartment. It's bad. It's REALLY bad. Yet here I am, so depressed that I cannot manage getting dressed and brushing my teeth, much less clearing out all the garbage and tidying and cleaning my apartment. I have this weird fear of people seeing carry out a bag of garbage, much less the bags and bags I need to clear out. So I am sitting on the couch in my pyjamas, reading Lord of the Rings, thinking how much of the descriptions Frodo's journey sound like they could describe how it feels to be severely depressed. Maybe that's why I want to read it right now.