Yesterday was bad. I haven’t had a depressive slump like that in several months. I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t want to do anything. Sir forced me to eat breakfast so I could take my meds. They didn’t help. It was a long day.
I hate these days for so many reasons. The obvious is that I get nothing done. I don’t want to leave my sweatpants and my couch corner, much less clean or engage with the outside world. But, almost worse is what I do to Sir. He’s a fixer. He wants to make things better. And I know it kills him that he can’t just order me out of it. And then he starts to feel inadequate. That hurts the most. He’s everything and I hate to bring him down.
I thought that I was doing better. But starting the business and the work on the house just overwhelmed everything. I’m scared of failing. Scared that I’m being selfish and I’m ruining the family finances because I want to play at something that I don’t know will work. I hate the house we live in more every day because I just want to move into our new home. It makes me tired to look at the mess and packing that needs done here. I’ve become quite impatient; not good considering I have small children.
A good night’s sleep helped a bit. I’m more motivated this morning. Coffee is a good balm. And a friend sent me an outline for a fantasy of his that he wants me to write. It was very inspirational. So now I’m trying to get work done so I can take my time writing out his darkest secrets. And since they involve me having a lot of yummy orgasms I am quite motivated. Ghostwriting other people’s fantasies sounds like a job I could handle.