Saturday night. My child is staying at Grandma’s. Home alone, free to do as I wish. Which thus far has consisted of watching Bitten all day (awesome show, by the way, I don’t even dig werewolves but I’m into it.)
I could do this. Or that.
But can’t seem to get my shit together.
My motivation is broken.
And as much as my frazzled nerves need the peace….I miss my kid. She brings life to this place. And joy. She is such a vibrant happy kid which helps balance out my tripolar bullshit.

I am not in the gutter, yet, mood wise.
Yet…I can feel that depressive urge tugging at the back of my mind. Sorta. Maybe.
I am fighting it.
I feel like I am losing.
One would think now that the temps are in the forties and it’s sunny, the seasonal affect would lessen.
But then, it was a really shit week so maybe I am in recovery/reboot mode.
I don’t want to be low.
I’m not really low. Yet.
Well, sorta. Maybe.

I have NO idea.


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