I don't know why, but most of the time I was in California, I only wanted to go home. Yet I was having a good time, and doing things I loved. I think it's the medication, not working quite as well as it should.
Now that we are in Oregon, I am in no hurry to get home. I wonder why we did not go to Texas (oh yes, Nick was worried about finding a place to stay in Arizona). I really want to go somewhere else. "As a rule a man's a fool...".
I have really been thinking all day that I do not want to go home. I don't like the house, I don't like the work I should be doing, I don't like living there. I don't want to go home. I am dreading it.
Yet in California, I felt much less strongly about not likeing the house, and more strongly about maybe, not haveing a definite plan, being undecided, not going to Texas, but doing what else? I felt restless. That "is that all there is to a fire?" sort of feeling.
It's driving me crazy. I just want to enjoy life. And I do, for the most part.
Update on depression: it is not so bad, unless this "want to go home, don't want to go home" is symptomatic. I had a good time today on the walk. About halfway through I was starving, so we got some girl scout cookies from in front of a store, and that took care of the problem. I find that I do not recognize hunger coming on, just when it is that I have to eat NOW feeling.
It is too quiet here, and I am out of podcasts. I really don't know how Nick doeosn't want music or somehting, but maybe he doesn't have the noise in his head like I do, and maybe also he is either reading or on the computer concentrating on that. Whereas, I am sewing or spinning or knitting, and I have lots and lots of time to think. Maybe that is the whole problem, too much time to think.
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