I’ve been trying out various templates for the Campfire, trying to fit the mood while also retaining some of the more extensive link listings that the obnoxious templates have. I’m still novice to HTML, so templates have to suffice for now.
I’m at a loss the last few days as to how to write, or what to write. I feel a little empty, or maybe just detached. I’m on the edge of engaging in all of my classic depressive behaviors; isolation, lethargy, silence. But I’ve hit the gym the last three days, if for no other reason than I’m a little disgusted at the weight I gained after starting the Remeron and the lack of exercise I got in Minneapolis. I don’t necessarily feel hopeless, which is the worst aspect of the depression. Hopeless, no. Confused, yes.
Somehow I feel cut off from myself, that I am just existing; unwilling or unable to engage in my friendships, in work, at home, etc. Mom’s crisis, for lack of a better phrase, has left me a little confused as to how to proceed with life now that she has grown a bit stronger and continues to live her own life. I guess I had convinced myself that the end was near, that by now I’d be grieving an actual death, rather than resuming my usual routine. I feel stuck between the two, unable to grieve yet also unwilling to pretend that everything is the same.
It’s okay, though. Campfires gain strength from silence.
*inspirational poster tacked to the wall of my childhood Sunday School classroom