Thursday, I saw my psychiatrist and my therapist. Both commented that it is my depression that is giving me trouble right now. Both asked about my energy level. How do I answer that? Energy level compared to what? So I'm tired. So I am busy proving inertia by have trouble moving from one location to the other (whether the location is home or elsewhere). That actually gives me some trouble. But oh, well.
I have a headache, so I'm a little distracted. I don't think I have medication for that with me (over-the-counter), and I am here now, so I'll probably not move too fast, as I just explained.
Anyway, I said my energy was low. I feel like it is.
Mr. Psychiatrist raised the dose of one of my meds. If this doesn't work, I can expect to change out this medication. Not sure if I'm happy or sad about that. He said that sometimes a medication works for years and other times in different people only for months. He thinks the venlafaxine might have just worked for months. I asked/commented about how this keeps happening that I start a new medication and get better for a while (measured in weeks, not years), but then I get worse again. He replied talking about how "he had to take my word for it," since I was good at hiding my depression so that I look like I'm feeling better than I am. He said maybe I was trusting more (implied trusting more now). That has me confused. I thought that I looked healthier than I sound right now, so why would this be a moment of trusting him more? He's seen me look worse. Hey, I didn't even cry this last visit (okay, so I don't do that very often). Or maybe he meant that before, I looked like I was doing well because I wasn't telling him that I was still feeling lousy. Who knows. It sounds so subjective, so dependent on what I say. But I am trusting him to use his knowledge and experience to hear what I'm saying along with how I look and act to understand relatively well how I'm really doing. Because I'm not sure how much I trust my own perception of how I am doing. I wonder if I just change my standards when I'm doing better, if I don't actually get worse again, but get pickier. I don't think that's what happened this time, though. And this paragraph is too long.
My therapist tried to think of what we haven't tried yet for the depression. I've been thinking too. I think I should work on meditation. Maybe that would help. Mr. Psychiatrist also said that therapy is what helps some people. I said that I've been going to therapy. I said, maybe if I tried harder... He replied that that would be difficult. There was a nice, non-guilt-building reply. I don't have to beat myself up for not trying harder (as if that would help depression somehow).
Funny story of the latter part of the week; parking garage fee. I park in a parking garage beneath my psychiatrist's office (big building). The cost for the length of time I stay is two dollars. They only take cash. But as I drove over, I remembered that I had spent all my dollar bills, under the assumption that I would take my paycheck to the bank before my next appointment. Only this week, getting to the bank just wasn't happening (remember that inertia problem) (and add in the fact that I took the check out of my purse for a bit, to keep it safer, so then it wasn't with me one time when it would have been easier to stop at the bank). But I didn't have time for that anymore; I was slightly late for my appointment as it was. So I saw the doctor and then went back to my car and started it, but soon stopped it to take care of the money issue. I took all the coins from my coat pocket and counted them with the ones in my wallet. I was... eight cents short. How very annoying. So I searched my car. Surely I had dropped some coins. I've found change in my car before. So I rummaged through my cluttery car. I even looked in my trunk. No luck. Would I really have to go to the ATM and pull out twenty dollars, paying a three dollar convenience fee, all because of eight missing cents? I considered begging for pennies, but didn't. Finally, I found a coin wedged into the front driver's seat. A dime. And a few pennies. So I collected two dollars worth of change, with a few spare cents. But then I realized that in my search for change, I had misplaced my ticket saying how long I'd parked. And without this ticket, I'd need three dollars cash. Amused, I started going through my car again, even picking up some garbage and putting it in a grocery bag (which still remains in my car). I gave that up before long. I'm really having trouble with motivation/energy/whatever to clean things. I switched and looked in another place, and there the ticket was. So I payed my two dollars of change to the upset lady and appologized. She assured me she didn't care and dumped the handful of coins into her drawer. She wasn't upset about coins or even upset with me as a person; I think she wanted to leave on a break or for the day and was waiting for there to be no cars so that she could leave. (This happened another time, when I had gone to the trouble of using the ATM to get a twenty dollar pill that cost me twenty-three dollars. She didn't want to deal with the change, so she sent me on my way, letting me keep my expensive twenty dollar bill.) (I never know if someone will be there to collect the fee or if no-one will be there and the sing urges me to just go ahead and leave.)
That is my humorous story of my own life. Maybe I should look for some funnier experiences (but not seek them out; most of them have a down-side, too. Silver linings often come with clouds or bills.)