I've been having nightmares over the past few nights. I don't know why, all of a sudden. I haven't been prone to them since I was a little kid. Of course, in those I was usually being chased by something or someone supernatural. In my adulthood, I miss the exciting survivalist/horror movie dreams–they usually have me waking up with the desire to write something new.
These are different. My horrors are different than when I was a kid. These leave me waking up in the worse kind of despair. It doesn't last, but for those brief waking moments, someone I love is dead or someone I love has betrayed me.
I was bitten by a cat in one dream, and I can't help seeing it as a bad omen. This is the only one that has kept bothering me the most. I've always thought of the cat as my spirit guide–or familiar, if you'd prefer. I dream of them so often, that I've openly accepted them as special. Also, I had an interresting conversation with a cat once (in waking life) that has me pretty convinced.
Anyway, I digress… My point–or the closest I can come to one–is that I'm beginning to think that my depression is manifesting itself in a strange and different way now. I've basically cut it off by refusing to feel sorry for myself for any longer than it takes to write about it. Once it's out, I have no choice but to keep moving. Just like when my back hurts while I'm at work. Just keep moving. What else can I do but grin and bear the pain? I can't afford to lay down on the job. Life must go on.
That brings me back to my back hurting every day for the past month. I have three herniated discs, but they don't always ail me. There are times when I go months without any substantial pain. I count that as a blessing. When I first hurt myself, I could hardly walk for eight months.
It seems like every morning I wake up to Abilify commercials, talking about the aches and pains of depression and I wonder if my pain has more to do with seasonal depression than the usual crappy back-pain I deal with every couple of months. Damnit it, I ran out of my Tramodol and I don't have insurance. Booooo! That was a kick-ass pain med.
Oh, yeah. I quit Lover's Den. I hated that place. Quite a bit happier now.