Okay, so I don't, in fact, have cancer. That I know of ( the hypochondriac in me will always think I have some undetected form of cancer). But after much testing and racking up much doctor bills, it amounts to "cat scratch disease" and is now done with. I also found out I have an under active thyroid, Hashimoto's Disease, which explains my depression and weight gain and a million other symptoms. But I can't afford the doctor visits and medications for it (no more insurance), so knowing about it is about it. I'm on OTC thyroid supplements, that's better than nothing I guess. The good thing that came out of all of this: I went back on antidepressants. Which is my explanation for the gap in depressing blog posts this year. I've gone from hell to being mildly content, with a tinge of maybe not very content sometimes. Basically, all of my emotions are dulled down to the point where I can live with them. Which does nothing for my creativity, but whatever.
I just had a horrifying dream this morning after the kids left for school. I dreamed that my brother came very close to shooting me in the face and killing me. I haven't spoken to my brother for months. We had a falling out over his stupid backwards worldview (pro Trump, anti-gay/trans/nonreligious/basically everyone interesting). But...the fuck was up with that dream? It's upset my afternoon. It's a beautiful sunny day and I just want to pull all the curtains and drink until I'm unconscious. Stupid dream.
I'm going to try to force myself to write. Hopefully inspiration is not only tied to depression for me. I want to write shitty haiku about nature. Or whatever. This is going to be awesome. More to come. From MILDLY CONTENT JENNY. BOOM.