The past couple of days I’ve felt myself slipping into old depression, I’m trying not to read too much into it, due to it being so close to being back to work/responsibilities and away from home. Our trip home merely solidified for me in my mind how homesick I really am. I had two appointments today, for some reason I have a hard time bringing up how I truly feel to my therapist. He’s nice and all, but somehow I just don’t see how we click. He doesn’t ask the right questions maybe, and we get things accomplished, but I have a hard time saying to him “I’m depressed today” and then trying to explain why. A lot of good things have happened over the past couple of weeks. I have no reason to be depressed. The other appointment was with the doctor for medication questions and stuff. So far we’re sticking with the same regimen for the next month, which is ok with me, when I remember to take it. I slacked a bit on the meds when I was home, partly because I felt good, which is a huge no-no, but also because I was simply so busy that I forgot. I’ve never been good at remember to take meds, which is how my first child also happened to come about.. But that’s another story entirely.

Up until now, for the past few weeks, I almost felt like myself, but just the last couple of days it’s gotten a bit more rough. So I guess that even though they seem to be working, I’m still having disturbing thoughts. Statistics seem to be on my side in many ways now that I’m being treated, but there’s always the figuring that I’ll never be truly normal. I really don’t want to be that 50 year old woman across from me in therapy who just wants to die. And if the medication can’t put more of a stop those thoughts, then what’s the point of taking it?