I don't know what to tell people anymore. I don't feel qualified to give good advice around this time of year–I hardly feel qualified to call myself a functioning adult.
DF says I'm good at hiding it. He rarily knows when I'm depressed unless I tell him. At least he understands that it's mainly a chemical thing in my case. He's stopped asking me "About what?" when I tell him I'm having depression problems. There are solid reasons to feel low, but I know I could deal with them better without the seasonal depression and the PMDD and the general anxiety… etc, etc…
I looked into the Healthy Indiana Plan, but there is a long waiting list for childless people. Figures. A lady I used to work with told me her daughter went to the welfare office to try to get foodstamps or something to help her while she was in school and they told her to come back when she was pregnant. Wow.
No babies for me. Thanks. I'm pretty solid on the idea that I can't put a child through the same mess I was put through as a kid. No one needs to see Dr. Mommy & Mrs. Hyde. I'm cool with that. I can focus on fixing me.
Anyway, what throws me is that I'm really trying here and I keep ending up back where I started. This is where negative thinking takes over–when I realize that it's all part of the neverending cycle:
Life takes a shit==>work really hard==>things look up==>positive thoughts==>Hey! Maybe I've finally got the hang of this!==>Life takes a shit
I know things will never be perfect, but I'd settle for pretty good for more than three months at a stretch. I'm asking way too much, aren't I?
On a brighter note, the night at the bar with E and her boyfriend K-Fed made me realize how lucky I am to have a guy like my DF. We have our issues but we both agree that expecting your significant other to take a dump while you're in the room with them is downright MESSED UP. Those two make me feel like I really have my head screwed on straight.