I went to the baptism party of the baby of my friends. My youngest daughter must have eaten 15 plates of food, and my oldest to the opportunity to act a damn fool as we were trying to leave. I did my best to not act like all depression zombie.
Sometimes I feel like people are happy and have nice lives simply to point out how I do not. That's probably not ration but seriously? I am sick of everyone's happiness. It leaves a nasty taste in my mouth.
Speaking of nasty tastes, I just threw up the prozac my doctor put me on to try to stop the cymbalta withdrawal. Why? The cymbalta doesn't work anymore, and even if it did, I can't afford it. He also said "Don't let the door hit you on the ass..." though in not so many words, as we have officially run out of treatment options.
He asked me about how I feel about the kids, and I was like "they're fine." I think they are expecting me to either get all OMG DROWNING THEM IN THE TUB BRB or fall all over the floor proclaiming my undying affection. I can't figure out a way to explain that there isn't just "I love my kids yay!!!" and "I ate one for dinner" - there is a whole valley of "feels nothing." My kids *are* fine. I feel "fine" about them at the moment.
"Fine" is all I have the energy left for.
So in short:
*My dog is dying
*There are no treatment options left for me
*I am being harassed by my social worker for not completing/seeking treatment that as we have established, does not exist.
It's a non stop donkey show. Basically? Business as usual.