And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad

It’s been hard lately. That would be an understatement. A really, really big understatement.

My depression has been crippling lately. You see, I have to choose between the meds that make my pain just a bit better, just a bit more bearable, or the meds that help my depression. I cannot have both. So, I can either have the Luvox and lift my depression or I can have the Zanaflex and help my pain. Both? Nope. The side effect was terrifying – I couldn’t even walk across the room to feed my cat without collapsing.

My heart is a mess. That might be an understatement – “disgusting” might be a bit better. But I don’t have the energy to clean it. I don’t have the PCA yet. I don’t have the homemaker yet. I don’t have the help I so badly need yet. They’re “working on it”.

But it doesn’t help my depression to live in someplace like this. It doesn’t help my depression to know that I’m likely moving so. It doesn’t help my depression to know that things might get better, or they might get worse. I’m in limbo, and I don’t like it one bit.

And so, I sit here. “I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad, the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had.” Do I want to die? No. But at times I just want a break from this. To not have all this pain – both physical and mental. To just… be free, I guess.

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