As it turns out, there is no combination of drugs or alcohol that makes me feel any better. If I continue on that route, I will end up making things worse for myself. I just get desperate for an escape sometimes and I thought that mixing all that stuff up in a jumble would make it all go ‘way.

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I’ve been sitting around on my flat ass since Friday, in a haze of naps, leftover turkey, Netflix and feeling down. Which scares me, of course, so I started rooting around in my head, trying to see if it’s circumstantial or like I was before, when life was something that I hated with a passion.

It stands to reason that if I don’t feel physically well, I’m not going to be in a good mood. I think I am safe, for now.

I got up today and cleaned my kitchen floor the best that I could and finally took a shower. When you start to offend yourself, you know that it’s time to muster up the energy somehow.

I am loathe to take another nap, although I could easily do so. I might end up there eventually regardless. When you pair depression and fibromyalgia together, naps are just kind of part of the deal.

I really don’t enjoy this lifestyle at all. Resting all of the time.

I don’t recommend it in the slightest.

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