This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

Has it really been almost a week since I’ve written?

The week has flown by, while also dragging along.

There isn’t much, good or bad, happening in my life right now.

It’s hard to figure out what to write about when that happens.

But writing is good for me.

I’m not really depressed anymore.

But, I’m bored.

PHP is over and I’m not working yet and one day just runs into the next.

We leave the house a few times a week just to keep getting out.

I craft.

And craft.

And craft.

And sit around thinking about things to craft.

And scroll facebook,

which I’m trying not to do as often.

I got used to having something to work on around the clock.

Holiday cards and holiday gifts.

All made with love.

They are finished and in the mail.

A few wrapped presents sitting on my desk waiting for a socially distant meet up with local friends for an exhange.

Trying to decide what to make for Wonder Woman.

I want to give her something, but she sees everything I make.

I’m not really sure what to buy her either.

Holidays are hard for me.

I want to give the perfect thing.

I’m afraid the stuff I make just isn’t good enough.

I grew up in a family where we got more, More, MORE every year.

So much,

Stuff.

Not that I didn’t appreciate it.

I had fun playing with everything that was given to me.

But I remember the year that my friend basically hung up on me as I was going through my list of what I got.

She was tired of hearing it.

I was too young to realize not every Santa brought that much.

I had to fight that urge when Kidlet was growing up.

I wanted the presents to overflow under the tree.

But that just wasn’t feasible.

And he didn’t need that much

stuff.

I still remember the Christmas where Toys For Tots was all he got.

I remember the Christmas when everything he got was donated by friends.

I remember the Christmas where everything he got was hand made by my father and I, in my father’s shop.

I remember the Christmas after Parker died, trying to get him the perfect gifts to make up for our loss.

Finding those same gifts years later, still packed in the bags that he brought them home in.

Never used.

Never played with.

Those were hard times.

But we managed to find reasons to smile each year.

We had a good life.

A hard life.

But still a good life.

I’m still sleeping too much.

And I can’t figure out why.

I try so hard to get up in the morning,

sometimes I even succeed.

But I can’t keep my eyes open and end up back in bed.

I’m working on it with my therapist and my pdoc and we haven’t found the reason yet.

I’m working on having another sleep study.

I dream all night, waking up on and off as each dream comes and goes.

Sometimes falling asleep right back where I left off.

I talk in my sleep.

I scream out in my sleep.

I don’t think I’m sleeping deeply enough.

But I’m not sure how to fix that.

Overall,

things are pretty good right now.

Things are pretty good.