The Glass Is Not Half Empty

This is turning out to be a difficult time for me. Due to erratic taking of appropriate medications, I spent some serious down (way down) time in July and August. Things have gotten better this month, but I'm still fragile and damaged in unpredictable ways.

The other night, I got a small glance of disapproval from someone important to me--over something that was not a big deal, and could be easily addressed--but it just knocked the wind out of me. Totally took me apart, and I found myself aching with unshed tears the rest of the night.

Today, I am recovering from some serious insomnia, accompanied by emotional havoc. My brain just hurts. It's scraping against my skull like sandpaper, like the gritty way my eyes feel when I've cried too much. I once had an IV of erthyromyacin, which irritated my veins just exactly like my brain feels today.

I have long thought of myself as a capable and strong person--when the chips were down, I always thought I would come through. I thought I was an optimistic person. Depression has shaken that view.

The glass is neither half full nor half empty. The glass is broken.