I wished that Shawn had fixed the patio screen in the summer because every time a passing breeze catches its frayed ends, I think I’m seeing people out the corner of my eye. Maybe I am. Could be your grandpa or your beloved cat. She says that she hates you for giving her the “pass go-do not collect your cat nip-go directly to inferno” card.
Look at her:
Sweet Jesus what is wrong with me?
That is what is wrong with me.
I’m having a hard time doing much of anything and that is if I want to do much of anything at all. I’ve been sitting in and around the kitchen for a good part of the day crying because I pretty much told a woman that she was fat when she yelled at me because I walked my son to school in -11 degree weather, dog hair that clung to the side of the bathtub, how to kill my dog, why does my psychiatrist need to take a 2 week long holiday, and over this bag of tea. Yes, this bag of tea.
I won this bag of irony at a Steeped Tea Party. Jesus is clearly laughing at me
Companies need to stop labelling their products “Happy” because people who aren’t happy want to feel happy and if the product is telling these sad lads and lasses that happy is in the package, those sad people will buy it.
Or win it.
“Happy” looks a lot like yard waste and high school pot parties in cornfields.
Fast forward past the part when I realized that I needed a tea infuser thing and I texted obscenities to Shawn about defrosting shrimp which had nothing to do with anything tea related. And then I MacGyver’ed this bitch.
See, I am not a waste of resources.
It’s a coffee filter with an elastic band.
Let steep for the allotted 5 minutes.
That’s too long, I think to myself.
Probably out loud to myself.
It’s too long.
It’s too f*cking long to get to happy.
Depression isn’t like any other illness. There’s no prognosis, no Mrs. Morand, you have approximately 4 weeks for the symptoms to subside.
I’m left in all the pieces that depression smashed me into.
I’m all torn apart and now
I’ve got to work on healing my mind, body, and spirit while I wait for my medications to help heal me I am desperately begging pleading for the bloody medications to work.
I don’t want to wait anymore.
I wish that feeling not depressed was as easy as kicking back and drinking a cup of MacGyver’ed up Happy tea.
I wish that I’m not seeing things.
I wish that your cat isn’t dead. Your grandparent probably is because death is a part of life and cats are assholes.
I wish nothing but a good cardiac surgeon for Miss You Shouldn’t Walk Your Kid To School.
I wish that someone would shave my dog.
I wish that my psychiatrist paid for my parking.
Mostly, I just wish that while I wait, my family doesn’t suffer along with me. I love you all with everything I have and I’m trying really hard except for when I’m watching Dr.Who and The Walking Dead.
*Im sure that there are people out there who think that we are in search of happy in a pill. There is no such thing. Anti-depressants help level our moods. They are only part of the healing process. We, the patients, also have to work on ourselves in order to heal.
Ps. So I am in a book called Clash Of The Couples. I’ve done a horrible job at promoting it. I am very proud of the book. We’ve been in the top five slot for Amazons hot new releases!!! So check it out!!! Great gift!!!