I just took my first antidepressant pill. I wish it were more like taking an aspirin, and relief would only be a few minutes away. But then it wouldn't work long-term, and I can't have that. But it's been a crappy morning, and only because of one incident.

Booie went to a sleepover last night. She "lost" the invitation in the yard for about a week and a half. A few days ago, Hammy brought the soggy invitation into the house. At that point, I wasn't sure that I would even allow her to go. Her room has been a certifiable disaster area for months, and I demanded she clean it before she play with friends, watch TV, or go to sleepovers. Then John missed Donuts With Dad at school yesterday morning because he was barfing, and Booie came through with a whirlwind cleaning session that unearthed her floor, so guilt and a last-minute effort allowed her to go to the party. She was gone before I got home from work last night at 7:30pm.

John had the invitation in his pocket when he left this morning to help his cousin move, so I didn't have a clue about what time to pick Booie up. He'd told me the night before, the birthday girl's mom had asked if there was a time Booie needed to be home, so I wasn't sure if that meant the party went late in the morning or that maybe Booie would be brought home. I hadn't a clue about anything, because I didn't have the invitation to see when the party ended. I got up, read, took a shower, and looked around for the invitation. I didn't know John had it. Meanwhile, the party ended, and my daughter was still over there for three hours after the party ended. I should have called early, but I just assumed the party would end late in the morning like most sleepovers. The girl's mother didn't even come out to say hello (or give me a chance to apologize, grovel, and kiss her shoes) when I picked up Booie. I feel like a clod.

I feel like this is just another domino in the line of failures and stupid things I've done. I get down on myself and let one thing ruin my whole weekend. Of course, I'm also ripe for it. I've felt like crap for the the past few days after a short reprieve from the gloomy attitude earlier in the week.

It came back with a vengeance with lovely timing on the day I was going in for my med check. My usual therapist doesn't have an MD, so can't prescribe medications. Fortunately, her husband does, so I had to go see him. He was nothing like her, and I'm glad I don't go to him for therapy. I am rather surprised at their coupling. They seem unlikely, but that's hardly relevant but for the fact I felt awkward with him whereas I feel quite comfortable with her.

I've never cried in counseling. It seems a little strange, since I cry so much at home, but I manage to keep the tears at bay when I talk about all my problems. In fact, there was only one time when I felt like I was close to crying. Until Thursday. I sat in front of this stoic man and got teary-eyed two or three times while explaining why I thought I needed medicine.

He is a rather unresponsive man. I'm sure that works with some people, but it's not my style. It leaves uncomfortable silences. If I enjoy the conversation, people can't shut me up, but when talking about why I think I'm depressed, all I want to do is shut up. So he'd ask a question after a squirmy silence, and I'd answer. He nearly lectured me once about how I'm still young and far from a failure and that Eric Erikson was 60 when he became a world-renowned psychoanalyst. And while I smiled and thought he was right, I still feel like a big fat failure.

I left there feeling like he thought I was a drama queen. I swear I saw him shake his head in that "she's so ridiculous" way as I talked. But he gave me what I hope I need, and I go back for a checkup in December to see how things are working.

Right now, all the side effects (which were actually not very extensive) seem worth it if I feel better. I know I'm not going to be happy from it, but at least I might not be so hopeless and sad. Maybe I won't want to sleep all the time. Maybe I'll want to be around people again. Maybe I'll feel useful.

But right now, I want a nap. And it's the weekend, so I can do that.

P.S. Happy Birthday, Daddy!

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