So I went and saw a homeopathic “doctor” on Wednesday.  She advised me to get some probiotics for my GI stuff and to start taking something called “silicea” and see if that helps with anything.  I’m a little cynical about the process but she seems like a nice lady and mom claims to have had some success with homeopathic remedies so we shall see.  I’m supposed to go back in 6 weeks to check back in.

Feeling kind of crummy this morning so not exactly off to a good start.  I’d probably feel better if I didn’t have so much crap lying around… I’ve had a pile of clothes that I need to iron sitting on the table by my desk for like 2 weeks.  A pile of coupons I clipped but will probably never use, a pile of receipts from the post office I need to add to my work log/invoice for Si.  A zippered up compacted duffel bag that I got free from Staples by ordering $150+ for the office.  It’s all a mess and I’m ashamed of it.

I went to have dinner at my oldest sister’s house because my niece, who just turned 9, was celebrating her birthday and asked me to come.  It was loud and raucous and, as usual, things got broken, children screamed and cried and I couldn’t understand a thing anyone was saying because everyone was talking at once.

I took home a big Rubbermaid tub of papers, mostly correspondence, that belonged to dad.  I had this crazy idea that I wanted to read them and try to get a better picture of who dad was.  I think just having them in the house has had  negative influence on me.  Since I brought them home on Thursday I have been kind of mopey, mildly depressive.  I looked through a lot of it, but I specifically avoided the pile that I knew had the “intense” stuff in it — old journals from back when he and mom were in a rough spot.  Most of the rest is stuff about family genealogy from various siblings and a great-great-great aunt that I never knew but I knew she had been a schoolteacher and lived in Hawa’ii before she died.  That’s not really relevant but I’m in a weird mood so I said it anyway.

 

I have to poo and, as usual, I’m pretending to ignore it.

 

I feel uncomfortable with BF in the house, especially since he is cleaning everything and I am back here being weird and depressive and surrounded by all this mess which is a physical symbol of my depression.

He got me a new keyboard because my cat threw up all over my old one.  That was nice of him.

My cat is just back from getting a radioactive iodine treatment for hyperthyroidism.  She seems to be acting pretty much the same as before except the other night when she was vomiting all over the place.  I hope she starts to put some weight back on because she is really skinny.  When she was younger the vets would always warn me that she might get diabetes because she was so fat.  Now she weighs less than Annabel who has a much smaller frame.

 

I should do something physical to get myself out of this funk.  But I don’t wanna.  That’s the crux of the problem right there.  When you’re depressed you feel like crap, and I’m vaguely aware that if I just do something a little bit different I will start to feel better, but I have no motivation to do anything, and even thinking about how much better I will feel doesn’t really have any effect.  It’s a self-perpetuating illness.  Coming out of it really is quite a triumph, because you have to overcome yourself to do so.

Bleh.

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