I can feel the old procrastination creeping back in.
When the depression was at it’s worst, I would go days and days without accomplishing anything. It all just seemed like so much. It was so easy to let each day slip by without taking any action, hopeful that tomorrow would be better.
When I first started on the Cymbalta, I experienced a rush of energy and ambition. I painted the house. I organized my cupboards. I did laundry and scrubbed tile and emptied out my junk drawer.
My thoughts are scattered.
I imagine getting an hour or two to work on a project and am immediately made tired by the follow through that would require.
The prospect of a good nap on the couch after work consumes my thoughts as I drive home.
The most productive thing I’ve done in the last two weeks is read the first four books of the Harry Potter series.
I’ve sat in front of this screen for two days trying to come up with something funny. I feel like the blog needs a new dose of well crafted funny… like I need it. But the words taunt me, just barely out of reach.
And I’m afraid.
What if it’s not working anymore?
What if that immediate burst of “mania” was just a short term placebo effect, and I’m just now starting to settle back into reality?
I’m terrified of going back into the darkness. But maybe even more than that, I’m afraid I may end up living in the gray area. Not really “depressed”… not really happy… just… here.
I always thought I’d be more than just… here.