It's been a hideously long, and just generally hideous week. First there was Ventus' accident, wherein the little genius sneaked out of the house successfully, only to fall down some stairs. He hurt his nose, was in shock, crawled under a car to hide, and wouldn't come out, even though he saw me searching for him.
Recovery has been confusing for the both of us, with him refusing to eat, and my following him around with various different foods, trying to get him to eat.
Then there was a particular complication in my personal life - and I honestly did think this particular gift was out of giving, but nope, boy, was I wrong or what?
Then there was Frankie passing away, and... oh, God, just so much. I've been staying late at work every day, consequently getting less sleep, eating out, and what have you because I don't have the energy to cook. On Saturday I stayed till midnight, and was so upset the entire day, that I hadn't finished my work even after FIFTEEN HOURS of being at work.
What can I say? When a depressive episode hits, it warps your sense of time and productivity. You feel like you've been working super hard for hours, but really you may as well have been going backwards for all the good it done you.
So there was me going into work on a Sunday, basically spending around four to five hours outside the house when ALL I wanted to do was lay down and DIE, like you hear some dogs do.
And now I have to GO BACK. And no, not even the prospect of seeing a particular someone is enough to entice me into getting the hell up.