I have, over the course of this weekend, realized that I am depressed.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not claiming Depression with a capital D, known to be a very serious disease that absolutely needs treatment. No, I mean that a lot of sad things have been going on, and they seem to have gotten me down.
Clue 1) My housemate confronted me about how bitchy and back-stabby I'm being about his peccadilloes. Yes, he's doing the things I complain about, but none of them are a big deal, and I've been moaning about them a LOT.
Clue 2) I stocked up on healthy food and interesting ingredients. I have cooked and/or baked nothing. Instead I've been going to drive-throughs. Instead of pomegranate lamb with herbed couscous, or tarragon chicken with creamed spinach, I'm eating Wendy's chili and KFC mashed potatoes. Even on the weekends, when I wake up with all sorts of plans for things that I can make and freeze, so that I can re-heat them when I am rushed or tired during the week - even then I do not cook or bake. I stay in my room until noon, doing nothing, and then I sit on my couch until 10 at night, doing nothing.
Clue 3) Doing nothing. I skip parties, and dinners, and workshops. I sit on the couch, sometimes watching Lifetime movies. I go to work, and I go to the gym, and then I go home.
So that's my story. I'm sad, and I've realized it. I'm telling the world, because that's my first step out of the hole. Time to start climbing.