Days are getting shorter.
So is my temper.
So is my patience.
I hate it.
I feel uncomfortable in my skin. I feel like my meds are worthless, even though I've been sure to take them every day. I feel exhausted and melancholy. Is it because 2 years of interrupted sleep are wearing me down or is it my dear old monster come back to haunt?
I'm in a study, using mindfulness methods to help curb depression. Go figure that I'd start downward just as soon as I enroll. My first session is tonight. We'll see how it goes.
I feel like I never finish anything. There aren't enough hours in the day. I went through 3 different cardigans today before I finally picked one.
I hope I didn't curse my children with this.
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