Five Minute Friday

Technically, I think it's actually Saturday. But I'm still awake, so we'll call it Friday.
The idea behind this is from Lisa-Jo Baker a blogger that came up with the idea to spit out a stream of consciousness every Friday. Set a timer for five minutes and just have at it.
This sort of thing is right up my alley. In case you haven't noticed, projectile word vomit is sort of my style... for better or worse.

This week's "topic" is True

What is true here, in this house at midnight on a Saturday? Truly, I've been battling my own demons this week. Demons that throw a wet blanket over me, demons that whisper ever so quietly that this life I have... well, I'm fucking it up. That these kids are going to be ruined with such a horrible, lazy, worthless mother.
Truth is - I don't believe them, those demons or their whispers but that doesn't make them go away. That doesn't make the cold, wet blanket they keep tossing on me any lighter.
True - there's couscous all over the floor from lunch, and probably some from last night's dinner.
True - I haven't mopped in well over a week. Damn, tomorrow might make two weeks.
And if we're being absolutely truthful, Marley's homeschool journey lately has consisted of a lot of Harry Potter reading and a little bit of counting with some dot-to-dots thrown in for good measure.
I'm not prepared or over excited. It's fall and my depression is back.
And I was supposed to call and make an appointment with my doctor to see about getting a new psychologist. Truthfully, I didn't. Not because I'm nervous about getting a new shrink or meeting my new primary doctor but because I'm so damned caught up in everything else... like the fact that I put lunch in the microwave and heated it up three times but only ate it as I started cooking dinner because I kept forgetting it was in there.
This is my mental state.
And as bad as it is, I know I'll survive. I know that days will be brighter and I will get back on track with housekeeping and school and general happiness. Life always gets better. Every. Single. Time.
So I make the choice to keep living. And some days it is a conscious choice to live.
That is the scary truth about my life. Some days, I make the decision to keep going.
But I've never decided on the alternative.
And I won't.
Because no matter what, I will be better.

Ok. So I think that was like six minutes of writing. I'm not sure. But there it is.
The prompt was true and you got a rambling confession of someone suffering from depression and anxiety.
It's not pretty.
But it's true.

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