Exploring Mt. Everest in slippers.

Vague: (adj)  thinking or communicating in an unfocused or imprecise way. I've had a vague week.  So much so, I had to write this week's entry in bits. I can't think clearly.  I know lots of words and can't remember them to describe things.  The word 'um' is being used a lot.  I don't like the word um.  Struggling to find words is not who I am.  Except on vague days. My brain is slow.  I drift off.  My concentration is almost non-existent.  I'm not even thinking.  Me.  Who has an internal monologue that's usually ...fuckitall, there's a word... going all the time.... there's a word that means that.... dammit. Lots of pauses to find words.  Remember what I'm reading.  Focus on what I'm typing.  Focus is hard.  I've got an audio book on (The Martian - if you're interested), and I've replayed almost every chapter this week, because it's not being heard.  I can't even listening properly. My computer ...

Feeling good and feeling better are very different things. This week I had an epiphany.  Self care isn't about making myself feel good.  It's not about eating the things that are delicious, it's not about watching the movies I know will make me smile, and it's not about saving up for a whiskey. It's about making myself better.  It's making sure that when I make a meal, I include vegetables, it's drinking water instead of juice, it's making sleep a priority, and it's leaving the house to do more than non-interactive grocery shopping. Self care isn't easy.  When the Depression is busy trying to convince me I'm not worth the effort, putting a healthy meal together is a mammoth effort.  Putting together ANY meal is a mountain to climb.  This week I managed once, and I managed to convince myself that because it was already difficult, making veges too wouldn't make it any harder.  It didn't, and I ate all of it.  I even felt satisfaction th...

It's been a difficult week for me.  I went to see my Doctor, as my prescriptions needed to be renewed.  My Doctor has been an anchor for the last couple of years, most notably, when the suicidal thoughts were strongest, he would randomly call, to make sure I was hanging on.  'Just doing his job' you say, and yes, he is.   I'll add this.  All doctors see to the health and well-being of their patients.  All doctors do their jobs to the best of their abilities.  All doctors are people too.  Which means doctors, like teachers, like family, have individuality and are people you either click with or don't. I trust my doctor.  I am utterly honest with him.  I tell him that I know I should  exercise, that I always mean  to, but that I don't.  I admit that sometimes I drink booze instead of eat vegetables.  In return, he rolls his eyes at me, and reminds me I know better, that when I do those things, I'm letting m...

Not feeling it this week.  The positive 'self-talk', the silver linings, or the conscious realignment.  It's fucking hard work, constantly correcting the way I think.  Every single fucking thing I do, takes a ridiculous amount of effort.  I don't feel like telling myself well done for doing my laundry (so what?! everyone does laundry!), the fact it's been building up for weeks, and I ran out of clean t-shirts 4 days ago, doesn't change the fact that it's only bloody laundry.  Thanks to the industrial revolution, I don't have to do anything but take my things to a machine, and push some buttons.  Whoop-di-bloody-doo.  I don't want to celebrate doing it. I haven't vacuumed since I moved in.  In October.  The shared hoover is downstairs, and this space is about 8 x 3 paces square.  It should take me all of a few minutes.  When I finally get around to it, I don't deserve praise.  I haven't done my dishes in a while either....