Today (Monday, I just couldn't post it until today) was not good for my back. If I misjudge the direction a child is going and they start to fall where I don't expect it, well, I might have reflexes to save the child from any harm, but using said reflexes might make a muscle or two hurt. And I think when I reflexively move like that, I also have instant tension at the same time, making it even easier to annoy my back. Oh, well. I think I'll be lifting carefully for a few days.
The depression is being really annoying. It's better right now, but an hour ago? Not so good. I started watching a movie. Highly recommended. And I stopped as the lady was preparing to check herself into the psychiatric hospital. The main character is actually her son, but I wasn't feeling ready to see the lady go through that.
Because sometimes the distance between me and the psychiatric hospital gets kind of thin, figuratively. There are good days and good hours and there are tough days and really tough hours. And sometimes I feel confused about my days in the "behavioral health unit." It's kind of an emotional topic for me.
And I remain amazed at the number of movies in which someone dies or someone goes into the hospital for depression. Now I think I'll go look for a kids movie...
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