Friday, May 2, 2014

Return to Mud

I've been depressed and tired.

I'm on a new medication for anxiety and obsessive compulsive disorder that a psychologist I saw at Victoria Hospital prescribed me, but I am not convinced it's doing anything. It may even be contributing to the problem for all I know. Or possibly that's more to do with the adjustment to my thyroid supplements that came at about the same time.

My moods seem, if anything, even more swingy recently. My room is becoming a mess again after I cleaned it. The plants I was watering have begun to wilt and fall over, the roots coming to the surface rather than good strong stem all the way down. I think I even saw some whitish mold starting to grow in the pots. Robby suggested moving them to my room where they should get more direct sunlight from my window than they do from the living room one, because that usually has a sheet over it. It's a good idea. I'm just waiting for a time when I have enough energy to feel like I can and want to do anything beyond work, which is continuing to wear me down. And of course I am still plagued by anxiety about whether I am performing well enough to be valuable, rather than just another replaceable part.

Our roommate's girlfriend didn't really keep interacting with me during her second week here, and didn't even clean up much beyond the first whirl of activity, so things are back to their old habitual ways of constantly falling into mess. Not that I can say I'm doing a lot about it.

The worst parts for me are that late into the night I can hear my boyfriend talking online, through my bedroom wall, and the ceiling creaks and thuds above me both late at night and early enough in the morning that it's hard to get a good night's sleep and I can rarely get back to sleep for a little extra rest if I wake up early or just tired.

That and an increasing feeling of hostility between me and our other roommate, over whom I have no influence, and who tends to mess up the kitchen and not clean it.

That and the internet is constantly choked and hideously slow. Sometimes service will pick up for a while only to lag to crap again in the middle of something, or disappear so completely that pages or videos won't even load. Our upload speed is abysmal, so we can't properly share things with our friends online. There is hopefully something that could be done about this if we harassed our ISP about it enough, but Robby is understandably reluctant to do so. He's bogged down, too.

Throughout all this, some really good, neat things have gone on. I've just recently finished a really good book, I started a new Let's Play of an old game I used to love, and even sketched a few nice pictures a while back. Robby has been supportive, loving and sexy. We kiss a lot more than we used to. But somehow I can't seem to hold on to the good energy of any of those things. I keep dreaming about bedbugs, and feeling trapped in a room surrounded by hostility and mess and invaded by noise...

I want to be living somewhere else, with just Robby and me, a slightly smaller, cozier, quieter place, with more counter space in the kitchen. A place we control together, co-operatively. A place that is ours.

No comments:

Post a Comment