I've been doing all my survival tricks - distracting myself with games, organizing my studio, sewing, looking at Kenny's photo, petting my kitties, shopping therapy...It wasn't getting any better.
Tonight I went to get my bedtime meds. I was removing all the lescol from the pill organizer box. (My cholesterol level is so good that the doctor wants me to try giving up lescol and see what happens.) I realized that the only pills left were just nexium and benadryl. I don't know how long it has been since my last dose of cymbalta. No wonder I'm feeling overwhelmed with sadness.
Once I realized that missing the antidepressant was the problem I stopped struggling to hold back the tears. It's getting more difficult to just depend on good memories. In years past when I had trouble sleeping, I would get up and go in the family room. I'd watch TV or play on the computer for a while. Most of the time Jim would notice that I was out of bed and he'd come in and keep me company. That was so sweet.
Now I sleep alone. I'm in the family room alone. It's not anyone's fault. Jim can't get out of bed and come be with me. I went into his room and sat for a while with him. He was sound asleep. But I know that was a healthy thing to do. I feel a bit better.
It is a constant struggle to keep ahead of the depression. I need all the help that I can get. I am overwhelmed. Jim and I have been living with catastrophe for over 19 months now. It's really hard. I know that I am the lucky one. We have both lost so much but at least I'm not physically paralyzed.
Life's a bitch.
It is somehow gratifying to know that other people have felt the hopelessness of depression, too. There are so many mentions of it in literature. I'm grateful that I live in a time when there is medical help available.