Nightowl

Another night without easy sleep.  Nothing new, but last week's sort of non-crisis, I have to factor in the sometimes difficulty sleeping.

Even worse, or maybe for the best, is that one of my fiber club friends told me that I have to watch Downton Abbey.  I set my little antenna to run and now I can get one of the Public Television channels that carries it.  I watched for the first time tonight.  It was the last segment from last season.

Damn, that program is good.  They are repeating season three next month.  Does that mean there will be only four programs?  Anyway, I am surprised that I like it so much, as there is not anywhere near the gore and special effects I enjoy in the forensic programs I also like, although there certainly is plenty of drama.  Plus, it is not possible to dislike anything that has Maggie Smith in it.  She is my favorite character in the Marigold Hotel film, too.

So, anyway, this trouble sleeping is most likely part of how much trouble I am having lately, you know, with the old depression thing.  It has to be a part of it.  And, I am wondering, or at least considering, that it might actually be connected with the holidays.  If asked if the holidays are in any way problematic for me, I will deny it, but they probably are.  Darn.  I hate admitting that.

Like, grieving and all that.  Loss.  Just past the anniversary of the divorce.  Knowing to expect more grilling from my daughter's in-laws next weekend and knowing that I am ill-equipped to fend them off.  Just past the anniversary of the divorce.  More darkness hours.  Cold.  All that.  More.

I accept that I am stuck right now.  I do not have enough of a problem with it, I am told.  I should be more pro-active about doing things that will elevate my mood, get myself out there, wherever there is, do more things, especially things that I could do just for myself. 

All of this is coming in tomorrow's therapy.  But...but...but, I think that I should be allowed to wallow for as long as I like, a little bit, maybe not planning to keep on until the time change next Spring, or anything, but I can be sad, even if it is for no good reason.

Oh, yeah, I want my mental health to keep improving.  I really do.  It is what I want and need and, frankly, besides, who would choose to be a sad wallower all the time.  Not me.

I do need to pull up my new big girl panties and move on.  Yes, I do have brand new panties.  Someone alert the media.

It is just that I have a broken tooth thing, with a dentist appointment this week. 
Thanksgiving is this week. 
I need to make an appointment to get new glasses.
I have a doctor's appointment next month, just a check-up, but still a pain.
All first world problems. 
All of them.
Poor me.

Fortunately, I do have bad brain chemistry for an excuse, but there is not any excuse for me not doing the work, which I really do not feel all that much like doing.  Poor me.

I think that I am using work to avoid lots of things.  I really, really and truly hate to admit that.  I think that I am letting the naysayers, the critics, the Debbie-Downers, the cynics and the complainers have too much influence on me.  Who is it that said that the complainers do not get a vote?  I cannot remember, but it just has to be true, yes?

I wonder if that little bit of pith will work in therapy tomorrow.

Anyway, I really am excited about my new underwear.  I bought new socks, too, the cushioned and soft leg part for people with diabetes.  Really cheap, too.  I now have enough of both that, should the weather prevent me from doing the laundry every week, I will be fine for two...count 'em...two weeks.  Yay.

What is the name of that sock part that is on top, on your lower leg?