Yet again, depression sucks. I've been having a rough week - a combination of stress and change, worry, insomnia, and a needy toddler who now seems to have a head cold. So much has happened lately, and while I'm trying to get a grasp on all that was good, I'm still not feeling at peace with what's going on. Our friend and tenant moved out last weekend, but we have a new tenant moving in soon so no lapse of rent money, and she's a military med student who starts rotations in july and won't be back in DC till mid-november. What better tenant could you ask for than one who is rarely around? The place down there looks really good, we have a few touch up paint spots we noticed now that there is no furniture, we still have to get the rugs cleaned but not because they are super spotted, just because it seems like a nice thing to do between people living there (especially since Chris lived with us for over 2.5 years). And most exciting, we get new screen doors isnstalled next week. Best of all, my freelance job from last year started paying me so we can now afford to do some of these fix-ups that have been on our list for a while.
On paper, this is all good. But I can't drag myself out of this funk. I can't go downstairs and look at our rental space, because all I see is the work to be done. I can't wrap my head around opening a can of paint and going around doing touch ups. I was doing good gardening, but now I look at the yard and am overwhelmed at all that needs to be done and don't know where to start next and therefore avoid it. Even sewing isn't what it was, it feels like I decided to start this etsy thing and now it's become a chore, despite my head being full of ideas and my closet full of fabric. Grandpa is still in the hospital, so every time my parents call with an update, I have that twinge of panic that it's That Call. The one where I have to make plans to go up there for a few days for a funeral. On top of it all, I still feel like a fat cow, despite the phentermine, which I can almost admit is work since I've lost about 5-6lbs (54 more to go!), but meals aren't the problem. It's the funk - I want to cure the funk with chocolate fudge sauce. But meals start to be a problem when I can't summen the energy to cook or can't even think what to cook.
Natalie and I head to the bay on Saturday to spend 2 days with my parents while Jim stays home and does stuff to the house/basement to prepare for the next tenant. I fear I'm just going to collapse in front of my mom, for all her support and babysitting skills and just waste the weekend away crying. But I guess that's not so bad. Better to cry in a safe place where Natalie is off swimming and exploring with her papa, and to regain my composure in a beach chair out on the sand with a book and my ipod. Then the following weekend I'm going to be in CA, and I better do well with that. Damn it, I AM going to have a good time. Even if I spend a good part of saturday morning out on the beach with a book and my ipod.