It's been a strange few weeks. We're adjusting to the summer-groove, and trying to come up with a bajillion activities to keep Hayden busy when he'd normally be at school. Our town yard sales are happening later this week, and I plan to be out in a sundress, walking around with my boys, looking for jewelry.
My internet has been completely wonky--loading and loading a page but never actually loading it. I've had ample time to clean and rearrange and purge, to spend time in my studio sewing up dresses for me and pants for the boys. My sister-in-law gifted me with a whole bag of fabric, yards and yards of gorgeous florals, one especially beautiful one in white with black and yellow flowers.
Despite all this business, I've been a bit depressed. I'm pretty honest about these things, and I feel that hiding them only creates more desperation for the depressed individual. And it's probably more than a bit. It's more along the lines of "maybe mood-stabilizing drugs wouldn't be a terrible idea". But I don't know. I don't even know what the problem truly is...I can't say that I'm all that dissatisfied with any area of my life...it's just that general "cloud" of fogginess and disinterest and sadness that you hear the commercials talk about. I am extremely reluctant to pursue any sort of drug therapy, not because I'm adverse to drugs as a whole, but because I'm already on so damn much medication for other issues. And I'm irritated at the thought of adding yet another pill to my day.
Having said all that, I'm not without hope, so I suppose that's good. We'll see if it blows over, as it usually tends to do. I'll wake up one day and, for no real reason I can discern, the light will seem a little brighter, my mind a little sharper, and I'll find myself smiling again.