Depression is expensive

Describing my past week or so to the therapist…

Therapist: “So…do me a favor and keep an eye on that, because that could be depression creeping back in.”

Me: “Um, nope. No, it’s not, because I JUST paid $85 to see the nice lady with the meds, and I’ll be goddamned if I’m paying it again before my next appointment.”

Time to see if I can “cheap” my way out of a mood disorder!

(I am not doing things I’m supposed to be doing, so I will endeavor to do those things. If it doesn’t help I will certainly go see the nice lady.)

Jesus just cockblocked my lazy day

I took a couple days off, trying to alleviate some work burnout, and put myself on the waitlist for a popular class at my gym tonight. I figured if I got in, that was Jesus telling me to get off my ass and leave the house, and if not, clearly He’d prefer I stay home and watch comedy shows.

They just emailed me that I got in, and godDAMMIT, Jesus! This is why I’m not religious!

Ugh. FINE. I’ll do something “They” claim is good for mental health — fucking hippies tryna thwart the part of my brain that’s perfectly content being fat and depressed, thankyouverymuch. 🙄

My pants are judgy whores.

I mean…I guess as weight-loss motivators go, splitting the seam on a fairly new — and not inexpensive — pair of pants is probably a pretty good one, if a bit unflattering. 🙄

FINE.

Well. There’s my answer…

I’ll be moving to a new apartment in a couple months, and my therapist asked if I’d want her to refer me to someone closer to the new place.

1. Now I think my therapist wants to get rid of me.

2. I said, “I don’t know, unless you think I don’t even NEED to be in therapy…?” and she raised her eyebrow damn near off her head, and I laughed, and she laughed, and so… yeah. Guess I’m gonna keep going.

Damn. Nailed it.