Hindsight

No matter how much I know of my various physical and mental ailments, it always comes as a surprise to me when I can identify actions--or perhaps more accurately inactions--coming from my depression. I think that's a lot of what I have been writing in the past week. I've been talking about sleep apnea, and as I reread the writing, it is obvious to me that the person writing is writing in depression.

It was really bad Sunday afternoon when I had a block of time that I could use any way I wanted, and I absolutely could not motivate myself to use that time at all. I sat in front of my computer and played solitaire. I actually got up over $1,000 in winnings, that's how much I was playing. It was a way to not do nothing without doing anything.

I even picked up my wife's copy of Marley and Me, which has had my wife in stitches as she read it. I had read 30 or so pages when I realized that while there were some funny moments in the book and it is all around pleasant to read, I wasn't laughing. I was getting the jokes, but they weren't more than mildly amusing to me. I am depressed.

I actually started feeling better last evening, and I feel at least somewhat better this morning. I have no more explanation for why I started feeling better than I do for why I drifted down into depression. I haven't missed my medication. Readers know how much attention I've been putting into my sleeping. I don't have any answers, and I'm beginning to think the medical sciences don't have any answers either.