Really, I'm fine. Feel free to ignore my howling depression.

I am here all by myself.

Dave wants to take a class in Mindfulness but what he really needs is a class in recognizing that there is a person standing right next to him.

I feel a new sort of depression I have never felt before: its physical. Its like I can feel the movements of my body, and I have to will them. What I really want to do is stand still within my body rather than force the arms to move or the legs to walk. Sometimes I realize that I have just stopped moving.

This house is a monument to our failure and to the unhappiness of our kid. Dave is fine living here. He wants to stay here until "we know what is going to happen with Aaron". He is fine sitting in this mausoleum waiting for the return of the prodigal son.

I am not.


Safeway makes me cry.

I need to address my problems myself because Dave will not listen and I am an idiot for thinking that he would be sympathetic and/or understanding. I guess I thought that because we had a shared experience. I finally told him that I'm not getting any traction with him and I wanted him to know that I'm having trouble with all this, and you know what he did? He yelled at me. I told him to not yell at me because I keep telling him that I need help and he keeps not listening.

Then I remembered: *Dave*. The cardboard cutout of a man.

I guess I have to go fix this myself. The problem with putting up a good facade is that people think you're fine.