My depression is kicking my rear end this week. The only thoughts in my head are self-defeating. I know my anti-depressant isn't the greatest, but I guess it does some good. The fight to keep up my resolve is so tiring. And I wonder if I'm worth the effort.
You know, when Jimmy was 5(or 6), I went through my post-divorce, post-icky-bad-rebound-relasionship depression, I used to love watching Mr. Rogers Neighborhood with my son before he went to Kindergarten (Eastside Elementary in Midwest City, We lived in the area then, so he was in the afternoon class). He told me everything I needed to hear.
And earlier, in my childhood depression, my Mom was perennially perky one. I didn't believe her, but I needed to hear it.
I guess, now at (ick) 45, I should be secure. I shouldn't need Mr. Rogers or my Mom (I wish she were here - pre stroke) to boost my (non exsistent) self-esteem. How I envy confident, outgoing, optimistic people. I am none of those (except I'm optimistic when it comes to my son, and I try to be for my husband).
Yeah, I probably need to go to the doctor (Jesse Ray Campbell). A waste of $20.
I guess I should say "I'm worth the money!"
right.
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