Cheese and Crackers

It has been a minute since my cheese last slipped off my cracker.

As I was on my way home from a potluck last Wednesday evening, I felt a slight change overcome my mood. The best I describe it is I suddenly, and not for any discernable reason, I describe as ‘sad,’ though that is not what depression in my case is.

With the 45-minute drive, I was feeling hostile, anger, upset, but at what, I had no idea. My wife noted that I seemed out of sorts, and if she could see it, I knew something had gone south in my mental stability.

She was already in bed, so I went into my office to lay down. I fell asleep at some point, and by morning, I did not want to get out of bed.

It was a struggle to get myself moving as I had stuff that needed doing. I mowed the yard, cleaned the front flower bed of dying plants, washed the sheets, and made the bed.

What a fight it was to do these simple tasks, but I got them done. As the evening closed, I went to bed early, praying for an easier time come the following morning.

While I slept, it was neither deep nor restful. When it was finally time to get up, I had to battle the urge to stay in bed again, forgetting my responsibilities, sleeping, or playing dead.

Either one would have been okay with me.

The depression had stuck to me like an ingrown hair on my butt. However, it finally broke and became a case of melancholia by early Saturday morning.

That is where I am at this morning. I am waiting for my manic self to reappear, so I can continue to complain that I have insomnia as the inability to sleep is easier to deal with than the ‘depression sleep.’ I’m betting by Wednesday that I’ll be back at the top of my game.


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