My job: the one I’ve dreamed of having since college.
My car: a wonderful surprise gift- the car I never thought I’d have.
My house: let’s face it, I’m living in my dream home.
My family: parents, brother, sister: check, check, check. All are great friends.
My husband: a great dad and wonderful to me.
My daughter: you’re kidding asking this one, right? She is perfect.
My bank account: not empty.
So why the malaise? Why the inability to move? I feel guilty even feeling down. I have it better than 99% of the earth’s population and here I am feeling lonely and depressed. I just wanted to stay in bed today. What a waste of time it is to be so sad for no good reason. Maybe it’s because I’m overly dramatic, or maybe it’s because I’ve been in denial about my dog’s health for quite some time now.
Normally I don’t publish my whiny days on my blog but I do feel that it’s overtaking me. I have about 30 fun posts to write but my fingers aren’t typing those.
OK. Back to work.
I know how you feel. I think we just have to get through these days (or weeks) now and then. Whether it’s a mental health day off or getting productive and knocking things off the to-do list, somehow we come out in the end. I can certainly think of darker times in my life so I try to focus on how it’s better now!
BTW, I used your peanut sauce in a stir fry the other night with the random veggies left in the fridge (asparagus that Don grew, broccoli, mushrooms; alas, the red pepper was fuzzy on the inside) and it was really good–even D liked it!! Thank you for sharing the sauce. It made me happy, even in leftovers at work!
[…] Sunny’s heart is still weakening and is in the last stages of failure. She has good and bad days, good and bad weeks. Toward the end of August we started talking about the potential of euthanasia, then Sunny bounced back to life. I’m sad to say her seizures have returned full tilt this week. The seizures are so bad for her; she yowls in pain, loses all bodily control, and falls to the floor, her back arched and her tongue lolling out of her mouth. Small seizures last a minute. Large seizures last longer and she can’t move for at least ten minutes afterward. […]