Platitude Paradise

That's how it sounds in my head tonight. All the thoughts in my head vying for an audience. My ears are literally ringing right now with the sussurus that is going on in there. All of it is negative. Every thought and even the half thoughts - all negative. And mean, too. I should've gone to parent teacher for Stretch tonight. I can easily supply a half dozen reasons why I didn't go, but all that matters is that I didn't. I should've. It's been a challenging time for me of late. My downward trend continues and Mental Health is not falling over itself to bail me out, either. Still no word on a referral back to my psychiatrist. One who has already treated me... one who likely would only need to talk to me on the phone for fifteen minutes and could solve my problem... but it's been three weeks already and still no word. I'm struggling. My energy is zapped. My libido is unconscious. I know this is a chemical thing. I know it can be fixed... ...

Yesterday was my birthday... my forty-seventh birthday. I find myself so depressed today, I just want to sit here and sob. What the hell is the big deal, anyway? Why do I feel this way?  Is it because birthdays are a marker? A measuring stick that we stand up against our lives so we can judge where we are vs. where we should be? If I was to give the birthday pep-talk to someone I cared about, I would say something like: "Birthdays are a celebration of the day that you came into existence and should be filled with all the love everyone has for you." Either I don't care about myself, or I don't buy my own bullshit, because birthdays blow once you reach a certain age... like maybe sixteen. I think sixteen was the last of my happy birthdays. My birthday blew... and sucked.  My husband was away, but he texted me a rousing "Happy dirty day, hun"... which was a spell-check gone wrong. My mother and two sisters texted me happy birt...