I interrupt my two queued posts of the day with this… I haven’t done this for a while; written something more personal. (And there will be no revisions of this one. This is raw emotion poured out onto my keyboard. Whatever mistakes and imperfections there may be – I don’t care. This one is written in one shot and published as is.)
I’m struggling, and I don’t know what this is. It feels like depression, although I have every reason to be happy. My son will be back with me for good in two months, but I live only for the time when he is here. The rest of the time, I hate. His foster care has gone on so long, and these last few months have been so slow… It’s like they never end.
I am permanently in this weird state… depressed, frustrated, tired. When I’m not distracting myself by writing, I’m here in this weird mental limbo. I wake up tired, slog my way through the day of tasks that should be easy but somehow are not, and I’m tired when I get home.
I had energy yesterday, when he was here, and even after he left… In fact I wrote two blog posts last night, played some more of my favourite game, and watched another two episodes of Daredevil… Only one left.
But today, like every other day, I was this depressed, lethargic, apathetic shadow of myself again. This waiting has gone on so long it feels as if I am under pressure, like it’s all too much. It’s even affecting my work. Tonight I am making a list of tasks to do tomorrow, and will force myself to stick to it in an effort to get myself together, at least at work.
But I just want this waiting to be over so our lives can continue and be on track again. I hate waiting more than anything else in the world. It reminds me of when I stopped using drugs; those first few weeks were a matter of waiting for the time to go by. But I am sick of waiting.