Spring Cleaning

The timing isn’t right to switch pills. The timing is never right to switch pills, really. No time is good to go wonky in the brain. Where things were mostly predictable now they are not. Predictably unpredictable, that’s how I am.

It makes me wonder what is really so bad with my brain. I went through years where I was supported by anti-depressant alone. I never threw things at walls then. I never cried and wanted to scream. What is different now that needs to be fixed? What has changed?

It’s February – not quite spring. The weather teases us with warm, sunny days followed by cold, rainy ones. I want to move out of my apartment. Everything about it seems dark. There isn’t enough light, that’s true. There aren’t enough electrical sockets, either. It leads us to the superfluous use power strips. Imagine power strips plugged into power strips and you have our apartment. It’s sad, really, because lurking just behind all those fire hazards are little blocks of REAL electrical connections right there on the WALL but not yet live. There has been promise of this “New Electricity” since we moved in a year ago but for now the empty sockets peppering our walls at nice, convenient intervals just taunts us.

We can’t move out of the apartment, not just yet. Husband needs a job first and we are supposedly trying to save money. Naturally our solution is Ikea. It’s cheaper than getting a new apartment and hopefully with its obnoxiously loud color palette I can find something there that will spruce up the space. Lamps will be bought. Space will somehow be made in the cramped living room / kitchen / dining room. How, I don’t know, but surely Ikea does. (And if Ikea doesn’t, Apartment Therapy does.)

And, in the meantime, we will continue.We'll do laundry and go to the movies and keep trying to make friends and I will keep going back to the doctor until things feel right in my head. We'll keep adapting to our space and I will keep adapting to the brain of mine because, well, love what you've got, right? Doesn't do any good to spend all our time wishing it was different. Make a change or stop whining.

That's the moral of the story.