… so much to say. Except, well, not. So, hey, let’s talk about anti-depressants, since I suspect that’s why I don’t have a whole lot to say.
I’m still on them. I have no idea at what point I have to cop to this being “depression” without the “post-partum” prefix. My son is now almost two, so soon, perhaps? I am almost ready to accept that. Almost.
After a month of barely making it through bedtime at 8, I shifted my pill taking time from night to morning, preferring to sleep through the lowest medicated point than have to handle bath and bedtime then. It’s working, except I keep forgetting to take my meds in the morning. Oops.
Bright side: I have found the thought trigger to remind me to take my meds, and it sounds like, “All I want to do is lay in one place forever. Blah, work day. Blah, Javi coming home. Blah, everything. I just want the day to end, but then… well, another day and another day and another… <pause> Oh, forgot to take my meds.”