This depression has been pushing me down beneath the murk for almost two weeks now. At least I've managed to come to work every day (this week, that is). I thought that once a few of my situations resolved it would lessen, but apparently not.
Yesterday I had the appointment with the new doctor. It wasn't great, but it was fine. Sure it gave me something new to worry about - big deal. I know that, as always, my blood work will come back like a shiny new button, wholly unblemished.
And yesterday when I got home, I found my disc of wedding pictures waiting for me. Unlike the first one (which was supposedly the second), this disc was uncorrupted. So now I have the pictures that I've been waiting for. I can make douchey photographer guy make me my prints and albums, and I can my my own albums like I've been wanting to. I went through all the photos and picked out the ones I like.
But still, no weight has been lifted from my heart. I've just found new things to dwell on. The photos? I just... don't really care. They bring no joy. It is just another chore.
I'm sitting here at working, feeling like I will drown in my sadness. Like I am just going to stop breathing.
But for the money, I could go home and lay comfortably in bed curled around my sadness. But for the money, so many things.
And to think: when I had the time, I squandered it. But then I suppose that is the nature of the beast.