I don't know what to do with myself. I have a list, but there's nothing there. I want to write, but nothing comes. I want to read, but can't focus, or it hurts, or I don't want to see. I don't know what I don't want to see, maybe everything hits too close to home.
I think the meds are starting to help, in that I'm less twitchy and weepy. Thoughts are clearer, but not clear. The house is a mess -- am I still that depressed, or just lazy.
The cats flank me. They want to be close. I can't see her, but I'm sure the dog is passed out in her bed. Unconditional affection. Warm. Quiet.
I want to curl up and sleep more. I wonder if I even want another baby. If I'm cut out for it. If I can get through a pregnancy. And school. At the same time? Is it really worth it? The pregnancy and worry, to have a baby?
I can feel tears behind my eyes. Sometimes I recognize myself again. sometimes I wonder who the hell I am and what the hell I'm doing. Spazzing around, teaching, playing with the dog. (Over whose leash I tripped while running last night. I'm fine.) Sometimes it feels like I'm pretending to be me. I still can't see where my life is going.
It's cold out again today. I'd take the dog for a good walk, but the wind is up, too.