Tuesday 10/6/20 Double Ugh

 Hey there! How's everyone doing (all 2 of my readers)?

Let's just get down to it. I've been having a series of down days. Last week when I posted I had had three. Well, now I've had more than that. Like, pretty much every day. Ugh.

Now, they're not terrible days, and I wouldn't say I'm depressed, but I'm definitely down. I feel that black cloud looming. And I'm not okay with it. For 3 months I've been doing so well . . . and now, just . . . ugh. I have no motivation, no drive, no inspiration, no real desire to do anything. I'm forcing myself to draw and paint - because at least that's something. I want to read, but I can't focus. I've been napping. Which when I do it every day is never a good sign. 

I feel myself slipping into old thought patterns. I'm trying desperately not to. But I am none the less. I've been thinking I need to start re-watching the videos in the depression program I did. Maybe having it fresh in my mind would help. Because just reading my notes isn't really doing anything. And I have therapy this Thursday. It's been 8 weeks since my last session. Before, I felt like I didn't need it anymore - today? Yeah. I need it. Maybe I'll gain some insight. 

I feel like a failure. Hubs and I spent a lot of money for me to go through the depression program and now I'm slipping again. Back sliding. Was it truly a waste of money? A few weeks ago it didn't seem that way, but now . . . now I almost feel otherwise. It's like I'm doomed to keep getting depressed. I just can't seem to shake it off completely. 

I'm trying not to catastrophize what I'm feeling, but boy is it hard. I'm trying to stay positive and do all the tricks I learned in my program. I'm trying to keep busy. But it seems like it isn't quite enough. 

Monday 6/15/20 Therapy

Hey there! How are y'all doing today? All of my 2 readers of this blog . . . I hope your day is splendid!

Mine, on the other hand, is not splendid. It's not terrible, but it's not splendid - not by a long shot. It's been rough. I knew it would be when I got up. Just woke up with this heaviness on my chest, in my heart and in my head. I just knew.

But I went about getting ready for the day - you know, hair, makeup, all that jazz. Well, I was almost finished when my phone rang. It was my therapist. I was supposed to have therapy at 9am - it was 8:10. My stomach sank. He's cancelling, I thought. I answered. He had a scheduling conflict and needed to reschedule . . . luckily he had an opening at one. I, of course, took it.

I had breakfast, coffee, and went downstairs to work on a painting I started last week. My emptiness was overwhelming. The depression crushing me but I carried on as if everything was okay. Hubby was working from home today and I didn't want him to worry. I didn't want to be a burden.

Let's skip ahead to therapy, shall we?

I started by telling Mike that I've not been doing well. That I'm struggling. I told him how yesterday I had an okay day but when I woke up this morning I knew. I told him about starting on Wellbutrin (we talked about my appointment with Dr. M as well). Then I had him read Saturday's blog post. We talked at length about it. I cried. Quite a bit. I'm not ashamed of that, I just didn't want to do it. I don't really like crying in front of people. Even Mike or my hubby. But boy did I.

We talked about my emptiness and how I'm trying to fill it (spirituality, relationships, books, clothes . . .). I feel I should specify relationships: I'm trying to strengthen my current relationships. I'm not whoring myself out. So stop thinking that. :) Anyway, Mike really emphasized how relationships and love are central, because the world kinda sucks and is full of suffering. Oh, gee, thanks. The world sucks huh? I knew this already though, just based on what I've gone through in my life.

So yeah, relationships and love. Got it. Spirituality can also be very important, which, yeah, I knew. That's why I'm trying to increase/expand my spirituality. Which is hard since I was never exposed to religion growing up. I've made up my own beliefs. But I'm working on this.

Honestly, none of this made me feel that much better. I mean, knowing I'm on the right path helps, I guess, but I still feel this empty void in me. And it makes me so tired. I'm tired of dealing with it. I'm just fucking tired.

We talked a little about the state of the country/world as well because that  can be stressful to be constantly bombarded with. (For future reference, I'm referring to the Covid-19 pandemic and the protests/riots for black lives matter). All of that crap. It can make one weary and I know it definitely affects me a little bit.

Therapy was difficult today. Hopefully that means it will prove to be helpful. Hopefully some nuggets of goodness are planted in the back of my head and they'll help me feel better. I'm praying for this. Maybe you could too.

Man this post seems to be a bunch of rambling. Oh well. It's good to purge. 

Monday 4/20/20 Therapy

I just finished therapy via telemedicine (we're still in quarantine due to corona virus). This was a tough one. I started by showing M my latest vent drawing and reading him my last blog post. Reading that blog post was actually difficult and I started to tear up.

And it left M speechless.

He stared at me, a very somber look on his face, and asked if I needed to go to the hospital. No, no I do not. Are you sure, he asked. Yes, I'm sure. Even just for respite? I told him I would rather be with my hubby and son. He nodded and said okay.

I told him about how empty I've been feeling, how devoid of feeling, how bad. I started crying. I didn't think I would, but I did. I didn't lose it, I didn't sob. Just sort of silently cried. Just for a moment or two. It felt good and it felt awful. Necessary.

We talked at length about my lack of emotion and ways to counteract it. We picked objects and ascribed feeling and meaning to them, hoping that by doing this I would feel something too. We started with the wedding photos and family photos in my bedroom. Photos that should mean something to me. Right now, however, I get no feeling from them. I can identify feelings I should have . . . but I don't feel them.

We did this with several more objects, assigning feelings and meaning to them, and each time I couldn't actually feel what I was "supposed" to. So my homework is to do this daily throughout the week so that maybe, hopefully, I'll start to feel.

Being empty, not feeling, is horrible. And difficult. It's hard to interact with people when you aren't sure what you should be feeling. Luckily for me I've been doing this my whole life. Hiding my depression behind a well crafted facade. Now I hide my lack of feeling. It's not easy, but I can do it.

I work Thursday and Saturday this week, both days in trans. I'm wondering how I'll do. When I get overwhelmed my anger and anxiety has been surfacing. I'm hoping for calm days. Easy days. Days where I don't have to wear my mask so much. Because wearing a mask, keeping up my facade, is tiring.

And I'm already tired. 

Saturday 4/18/20 Am I Enough

I just kinda feel compelled to write right now. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I've been pouring over old blog posts looking for fodder for my book. Yes, I'm working on writing a book. I actually started it several years ago and didn't get very far with it. Well, I'm revisiting it with some fresh ideas and hoping to actually get it fleshed out. So yeah - I've been working on it for 4 hours now. Go me!

But I don't think that's what I really wanted to write about. No, I think not.

What is it then?

This horrible feeling of emptiness I can't seem to shake. That's what I want to write about. See, I can't seem to get rid of it. I feel so empty right now. I'm not really feeling anything. No good, not even anything really bad. Though when I do feel, it tends to be bad. I'm just existing. Barely. Everything around me is so thick and grey and oppressing. It's sludge. There's no color, no life.

I'm nothing.

I'm stuck.

I don't like feeling like this. This apathy. This anhedonia. Things that I enjoy? Like reading and painting? I don't enjoy anymore. I force myself to try . . . most often leading to failure which makes me feel worse.

I have therapy on Monday morning and I'm a little bit worried. See, I'm depressed, but am I depressed enough?  And what, exactly, do I mean by that? See, people don't seem to care unless you're depressed enough. Suicidal enough. Manic enough. Who says it's enough? Hell if I know, but it seems to be a common thread. I'm mainly flat, withdrawn, down, and empty. Is that enough? I'm not suicidal, I'm not breaking down all the time, I'm still able to work. So, am I enough?

I'm worried that during therapy I won't be able to carry enough weight of the conversation. Because my depression is all I have to talk about. And I'm not horrible. And I know what I'm supposed to be doing and I'm doing those things. All those coping mechanisms form CBT and DBT that I learned so long ago . . . I do all those things. What more am I going to learn in therapy on Monday? That's what worries me. That I'm not enough for therapy, even though it's always been helpful to me.

I don't know why I'm so worried about this. But it's tearing me up inside, which is stupid, I know. I can't help it though. I mean come on - I'm tearing up as I type this. How stupid is that?

I just know that I'm tired of feeling like this. I know I can feel so much better - I've been there. I just need to figure out how to get back there.

Wednesday 4/15/20

Would you look at that - it hasn't been a week yet and I'm writing again. I'm having an overwhelming desire to write. But I don't know exactly what I'm going to write about. . .

I'm on the couch (as per usual), listening to both music on my phone and my son yelling at his friends through his headset. Delightful. Although wait - what's that? It seems he's being quiet for the time being.

For not feeling great I've gotten some things accomplished the past few days. Monday I did a sketchy type personal drawing of a woman crying; yesterday I painted five bookmarks - cute ones - and sold two of them; today I cleaned the kitchen, did laundry, and went to the post office. Stuff I got done that I honestly didn't think I'd accomplish. I'm proud of myself for that.

Especially because I seem to be frozen.

Frozen from doing things. For example, after I showered yesterday (a feat in itself), I had to lay down for an hour before I could go downstairs to my studio to paint. It was too overwhelming. I just couldn't do it. Ultimately I was able to get myself up and down there, but it was truly difficult.

I'm starting to feel as though things are pointless. Nothing really matters. It's all stupid. This is very bad thinking for me and is usually the first step to suicidal thoughts. I've been very active in countering this thinking with positive thoughts. But that's hard to do and it's surprisingly tiresome. You wouldn't think so, but it can be exhausting countering negative thoughts.

I'm trying to come up with things to do. Like making mother's day cards for my mom and mother-in-law. I know they would appreciate them which makes them not pointless, right? See, self? Things aren't as pointless as you think.

I'm hoping things like that will help. Painting and drawing - having a creative outlet - usually seems to help. What sucks is that I haven't had the motivation to do this. It's hard to even get out of bed and perform the basics of hygiene let alone be creative and act on it.

I'll get there at some point I suppose.

Monday 4/13/20

I made a silent goal to myself to try and blog at least once a week. Well, this is my 5th weekly blog post! Go me!

Alright, enough gloating.

I'm sitting on the couch in my pajamas. It's 9:30 am. I probably won't get out of my pajamas today. Shower? Pshhh, no. Makeup? Do my hair? Definitely not. Lounging around in my jammies all day is the ticket.

I worked yesterday and I had a rough day. It wasn't a busy day, that wasn't it. I had a rough mental health day. Withdrawn, empty, flat. I had a hard time interacting with coworkers. I had a hard time keeping my head above water. I had a hard time existing.

No one knew it though. I kept it secret. I'm good at keeping secrets.

I remember walking down the hallway to the break room, feeling pretty low. I opened the door slowly, quietly. There was no one in there and my eyes welled with tears. I don't know if in that moment I needed someone to notice my pain and offer help? Maybe?

I wanted to cut. So badly I wanted to cut. Deep and wide and bleeding. I needed the physical pain to distract me from the mental anguish I was feeling. I didn't cut though. I didn't cut. That in itself is a huge victory.

In other news, I had a maintenance TMS treatment last Wednesday. I'm not feeling any positive effects from it yet. I'm hoping it just takes time. Just a little more time and I'll start to feel better. If not, I guess I'll have another in May. If that doesn't work then I don't know. Dr. M is always suggesting I try ECT again but I desperately don't want to do that. I have enough memory problems from that as it is, I don't need to compound the problem.

I still have no motivation for anything. Like, I want to paint and draw and read and work on my book . . . I just can't. I have no motivation, no drive. All I do is sleep to escape. That's no way to live.

No therapy this week. M and I decided to try 2 weeks instead. I wish I had therapy this week but I don't want to call M cause I don't want to be a burden. And I don't want it to just be me whining about how I'm feeling. Oh whoa is me, I'm depressed again. I don't want to be a burden on anyone which is why I've been keeping all of this a secret. Probably not my best idea. Oh well.

Maybe next week my post will be a bit brighter.

Friday 2/28/20

Would you look at that: February is almost over. Crazy. It went by quick. But slow as well. How can that be? I don't know.

I'm sitting on the couch with this ridiculously strong urge to write. I feel like I need to. I have to. I'm feeling pretty low today. Empty. Drained. Worthless. And many other negative words. I don't even know what I want to write about, except for how I'm feeling.

So I had therapy yesterday. M and I talked about my worsening depression and my growing dissatisfaction with work (that's a whole other blog post in itself - lots of crap going on with work). We had a good discussion but I feel like he was almost blowing it off a bit - my depression I mean. Now, I guess not really blowing it off per se, but I don't know, maybe not addressing it as much as I would like because I'm not suicidal. I don't know. I think I have  a tainted view of what was really said.

What stands though is that my depression seems to be getting progressively worse. I've had several days where I didn't/couldn't get out of bed. I got up to go to the bathroom and that's it. It's not a good place to be. I feel so empty and vacant and unfulfilled. So downtrodden and worthless and useless. So much a burden on everyone I love.

Great. Now I'm crying.

It's just, after having 5 months of stability this is hitting me hard. Harder than I thought it would. Because people, I don't want to exist. I don't necessarily want to die, but I don't want to exist. And that's a harsh reality to be faced with again.

I keep thinking it will go away on its own, that I will miraculously get better. But that doesn't appear to be happening. I see my psychiatrist the second week of March and I want to see what he says. I doubt there's a med change we can make. I flat out will NOT do ECT again. Which leaves trying TMS maintenance, which we can't afford. So yeah.

I've been lying to people about how I'm doing. Mostly to coworkers. I don't want to be judged, I don't want to let people down, I don't want to have to explain. So I lie. Which pulls support away from me, so this maybe isn't the best solution. But it's what I'm doing. Lie, hide, cocoon away from everyone. Some people have noticed. Some people have asked me how I'm doing, really. Smile, I'm fine, really, just tired. I'm not sleeping well, really, I'm okay.

So yeah. This is where I'm at now. Getting progressively worse, lying about it, and not actively seeking help. Of course, that's the thing with depression - it's hard to actively get help. But I'll get there. I'm fine. Really.

Tuesday 2/18/20

I meant to write last night, but I distracted myself with Pinterest. I needed to write last night, but I didn't. I don't really know why I didn't. There's no good reason.

My black cloud is trying to envelop me, trying to consume me. I've had some bad days. Days where I can barely get out of bed to use the bathroom. Days where I see no end to the darkness. I'm trying not to let it get me. I'm fighting as best as I can.

I'm thinking about doing maintenance TMS. It's once or twice a month. But it's $200 a pop and we honestly don't have the money for that. I'm also sticking to an eating plan, calorie counting, and exercising. Maybe if I can lose some weight it'll help.

Maybe it will help.

I'm trying to counter all of my negative thoughts - which is exhausting - and remain positive. I'm trying to stay present, get plenty of rest, and interact with people (also exhausting). Speaking of interacting with people, a few coworkers have noticed my facade slipping and have asked me if I'm okay.

Do I lie or do I open up?

I guess it depends on who it is.

I've been doing some art - paintings. Keeps me occupied, kills the time, keeps me from napping. As of right now I thankfully have a shred of inspiration. Hopefully I can hang on to that. Painting helps.

I haven't studied Spanish for weeks. I can't concentrate. I haven't really read in weeks because I can't concentrate. I try, but I fail. If I lose my inspiration for painting I don't know what I'll do.

Probably nap, which I don't want to do. That's giving in and I can't do that.

Just over a week and I have therapy. Maybe that'll help.

Until then I'll keep struggling against the waves.

Friday 2/7/2020

Hey there, I'm back. It's been a bit. It's cold and snowy here in Colorado. In fact, it's snowing right now. An unofficial snow day (my son stayed home from school - we're both sick). Well, let's get to it.

I went back to work this week after having 3.5 weeks off for my surgery. I worked Monday and yesterday. Monday was hell - we delivered 9 babies. Not the welcome back I was hoping for (I was hoping for a nice leisurely day *laughs*). I was exhausted and cranky by the end of the day. Thursday I floated to NICU, which I hate doing. I don't work in the NICU because I don't like it, so why would I want to float there?? Second day back and I can't even work on my own unit. I was, again, rather cranky.

Why am I telling you this? Well, because work has become an increasingly larger and larger problem for me. See, I'm burnt out. I was incredibly burnt out before my surgery. I thought having 3 and a half weeks off would help the situation. I thought I would go back refreshed.

That's not what happened.

I went back to work bitter and angry and tired. I went back to work and learned there were more changes made that are out of my control. I went back to work and I struggled. I struggled to keep my head above water. I struggled to keep up. I struggled to care. I'm a nurse - I'm supposed to care. I didn't.

I don't know what to make of this, honestly. I feel like I need to get away. From everything. From adulting. Maybe that would help. Maybe I need a change. I don't know. I just know I'm not happy.

My black cloud is my ever close companion right now. I'm not enveloped - my cloud is on the sidelines, inching closer every day. I still feel the effects though. I thought, maybe this is why I'm hating my job. Maybe this is why I feel overwhelmed. But alas, I was feeling these things before my black cloud came back. The cloud certainly makes it worse, but it's not the cause.

I don't know what to do. I don't know who to talk to. Hubby? Obviously. Therapist? Of course. But who else? I work with my 2 closest friends (can't talk to other coworkers because of gossip). I can talk to my 2 friends but I don't think they'll get the depth of what I'm feeling. I'm not even sure I do.

I feel incredibly lost.


  

Monday 1/27/2020

Hey there.

How's it going?

It would appear that my, uh, black cloud is back. Trying to take over. Envelop me with darkness. It's there, hovering, waiting for the right moment to strike. It could be any moment, I feel it. It's unrelenting.

I've been so close to breaking down. Several times a day. Every day. So close. My eyes fill with tears, full to the brim, but they don't spill over. There I sit, feeling the world crashing down around me, so ready to lose it, and then . . . nothing. The tears . . . they go. I don't know where because they're certainly not spilling down my cheeks. I sit there feeling so defeated and so empty and so . . . gyped because I didn't get that release. That emotional release that comes with crying. I don't get that. So I'm full of bad things. I'm full of emptiness - how can that be? I feel lost and confused and let down and angry, so angry! Why can't I cry??

I haven't been able to cry since I did TMS. Five months.

Granted, I haven't really needed to cry. I've been stable. Until recently. Until my black cloud started coming back around.

And now . . . now I can't cry.

When I'm not close to breaking down I feel flat. I feel meh. I just am. I'm not as quick to laugh. I get angry more often, and at stupid little things. I don't want to do anything. When I'm home alone by myself all I want to do is sleep. Sleep to escape. Need something to pass the time? Sleep. I have no motivation for anything. And I mean anything. Drawing, painting, reading, Spanish . . . I don't want to do any of it. I just want to sleep.

And I hate this. So much. I hate my black cloud. I keep thinking . . . if I could just cry. If I could just get that relief  I would feel better. Do I know I would feel better? No. Of course not. But I think it would be better than having everything bottled up.

So now I'm stuck in this no man's land. Feeling empty and flat normally . . . anhedonic. And, well, feeling worse. But unable to express it.

Why not hypomania? Why not that? Just a little. Just a little . . .

Friday 1/10/20

Well. It's been a long time since I've blogged. Well over a month. Some things have happened, some things have changed.

My last post dealt with the dark cloud hanging over me. And, well, it's still there, but it's a lot smaller. It's not as impressive. It's not as overpowering. That's not to say that it doesn't get bad at times - it does - but it's much more manageable.

Probably the biggest thing that's happened is that I had surgery 2 days ago. In my last post I mentioned my extremely painful pilonidal cyst (a cyst on my tailbone). I saw my dermatologist who referred me to a general surgeon who decided it would be best for me to have surgery to remove it. The weeks leading up to surgery I was terrified and in denial about it. Because essentially, I was having surgery on my butt crack. Okay, literally I was having surgery on my butt crack. I didn't know what to expect of surgery or my recovery. I was scared and anxious. However, the surgery went well. I'm 2 days post op writing this and I'm not having any pain. I'm sore and tired for sure, but I'm not having any pain. I have a JP drain coming out of the surgical site that is draining excess blood and fluid that I get to empty several times a day (it looks like a rubber grenade attached to some tubing). I see my surgeon on Tuesday (14th) and will hopefully have the drain removed.

I have 2 commissions to complete over my time off from surgery (I have the next 3 weeks off). One is for 6 paintings! Six paintings that I really don't feel like doing. If I'm being honest. I still don't have inspiration or motivation to do things. That's one thing that hasn't changed since my last post. So these commissions are a daunting task.

So there you have it, short and sweet. An update since my last post. Goody gumdrops.

Wednesday 11/20/19

If you read my last post you know I'm struggling just a little. It's a silent struggle mostly - I'm not being vocal about it to friends or family. As far as everyone is concerned I'm A-OK. Maybe this isn't the best thing to do. Maybe I should speak up instead of silently suffering. It's just that, well, everyone wants me to be doing good and I don't want to let them down. TMS was the silver bullet to my depression - it worked. And to have my depression come back before I've even paid off treatment . . . well, I can't stand that scenario.

As of right now it's just little things. Like anger. I'm getting angry at stupid little things. And yes, I know, everyone does this from time to time. But it's becoming more frequent and consistent for me.

Sleeping. I'm starting to sleep entirely too much. Sleeping in, naps, you name it, I'm doing it. I wake up around 5am and feel awake. So what do I do? I go back to bed until 8 when I have to take my son to school. When I get home from that I tend to go back to bed until 10 or 11 before I get up and get ready for the day. If I don't know what to do with my time I'll nap. This happens every day I don't work. It's becoming obscene.

Negative thinking. Negative thinking and I go way back, back to my childhood where I never thought I was good enough. But when I've been feeling better I've been able to manage it pretty well. Well, not anymore. Negative thinking is taking over in a no-holds-barred match. It's like, if I can put a negative spin on something, I will. Now, keep in mind these thoughts are automatic - I'm not purposefully doing this. But they're there, and as much as I try to counter them they seem to be winning out.

Motivation and inspiration. My motivation for virtually anything is long gone. I'm still getting my butt to the gym, though not as regularly as I'd like, because of my lack of motivation. I also have no motivation to do things like keep my house clean or shower. Sometimes I have a hard time feeding myself because I just don't care. Part of me really wants to draw and paint because that's one thing I really enjoy. But I don't have inspiration for what to paint or the motivation to accomplish it. Just yesterday I sketched some jackrabbits and thought that maybe - just maybe - I'll come up with an idea for a painting I can do today. Well, that didn't happen. Here I sit, blogging, having slept in until 11am. No motivation. No inspiration.

Little things. Little things either piss me off or bring me close to tears (mind you, I haven't been able to cry since TMS). For example, I have a pilonidal cyst (a cyst on my tailbone). It's very painful - very painful. I'm having a hard time handling this. I feel overwhelmed and near my wits end because of this. Another example - I dropped my spoon this morning. I yelled, cussed and nearly cried. Because I dropped my spoon. Little things are getting to me. I just can't handle them.

Now for me, these all seem like warning signs of early depression. I so far don't feel depressed - at least how I feel when I am depressed. But it makes me think (and overthink) and worry that I'm in for a relapse. Sadly I don't have therapy again until Dec. 5th. Don't see my psychiatrist until Dec. 10th. So I guess I'mm winging it until then. :(

Thursday 10/10/19

I'm curled up on my couch in a hoodie with a big fluffy blanket wrapped around me. The heat is turned on but I'm still cold. That's not surprising though - it went from 75 degrees and sunny yesterday to 20 degrees and snowing today. That's not uncommon here in Colorado. My body isn't used to the cold.

Everything has been super uneventful. Seriously. Nothing exciting is happening at all. I'm working my two 12's a week, trying to stay productive on my days off (doesn't always happen), and get to the gym despite the pain I'm having.  It's all rather boring. But that's a good thing I think. Usually when there's excitement with me it's the wrong kind.

I've been reading more, which is nice. Of course, I've been reading more because I don't have any inspiration for artwork. I want to draw and paint, I just don't know what I should draw and paint. I thought about joining an art challenge for the moth of October - called Inktober - but I couldn't come up with anything to draw after looking at the prompts. I felt overwhelmed. So I'm not doing it.

Mood wise I've been doing pretty darn good. Which is really amazing. I feel pretty great, actually. It's so weird not having my black cloud around. I don't want to sound too ambitious, but I'm hoping I get at least a year of this before my depression comes back. Wouldn't that be something? The most I usually get is a couple of months. But this time it feels different. I'm actually feeling - I'm not just flat or numb. So hopefully it will last.

Pain wise I'm about the same. Yesterday was a bad pain day where I was stiff and aching all over. Hubs and I went to the gym and tried to do legs. Well, he did legs, I tried. My knees hurt too bad to do much of anything. Stupid fibromyalgia.

Well, I don't really have much to write about right now. Probably I'll take a short nap and read. I'm going to try and write at least once a week, even if it's just boring mediocre stuff. So until next time . . .   

Wednesday 9/4/19

I look over my shoulder and there it is: the black cloud. The same cloud that's followed me my whole life is back and it's getting closer. I try to run from it to no avail - the cloud easily keeps up. It's not raining - not yet - but the rain is inevitable. It always comes, no matter how little sun I've had.

This is how I'm feeling right now. I'm almost finished with my TMS treatment. I have 3 more regular sessions to go before I start my taper (3 weeks of 2 treatments per week). And then that's it. I'll be done. And I have to say I've done quite well with it. My depression scale scores have dropped dramatically, I've been feeling better, smiling, laughing, talking, interacting. That existential dread that I used to feel in the mornings is gone. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.

So what's the problem then?

It's that black cloud. It's back. It's not hovering over me quite yet, but it's there. I can feel it. That little tickle on the back of my neck . . . it's there. Little nuances I'm picking up on. Negative thinking, feeling empty, questioning my existence. That damn cloud is moving ever closer.

I'm working hard to keep it at bay. Countering my negative thoughts, filling my days with things I enjoy . . . I read a book called The Depression Cure by Stephen S Ilardi  and I'm following his program to combat depression (I recommend reading the book - it's very interesting and makes a lot of sense). I'm keeping up with therapy and follow up appointments, going to my TMS classes, eating healthier and exercising more. What more can I do? No really - what more?

That black cloud keeps moving closer and the rain is inevitable. So why run? What good will it do? If the rain is going to come . . . well, it's going to come.

Perhaps this time I should learn to dance in it.