Tonight I'll be talking with Kadin, who I quite literally haven't talked to in months. Ryan will be getting home in 4-ish hours, and I'll be having snuggles and possibly playing either Dungeon Keeper or Masters of Orion 2, depending mostly on which disks we find and which will actually run on this computer.

In a few days Caleb will be home, and I'll get to spend some quality time with him, conversations and snuggles and sex and those moments where even when you're both silent, you are communicating perfectly.

So why am I feeling so... so zombie? I don't know. I don't even have the strength to care, really. Consciously I am aware that this is just another burst of the depression (and likely a trace of the hydrocodone withdrawals kicking in yet again). I know it will go away - I ended up taking two of the anti-depression meds.

And yes, I know I should have only taken one.

This is the part that always, when I begin to fall into it, scares me. It's the point where even though I can still recognize the wonders in my life, the reasons to stay alive, all the good things... they start seeming unreal. Illusions. And I start wanting to fall further, and further.

Sooner or later, I hit bottom, and bounce back. I'm still alive, I'm not doing anything too destructive.

I think that's part of why I use medication the way I do - two parts, technically. 1) it eases the destructive urge since it is slightly destructive... and 2) it makes sure that I won't have enough, or have the strength/willpower, to OD.

Right now Ryan's being truly wonderful and keeping an eye on my meds for me. Having someone that I know is paying attention to them makes a pretty big difference; it's harder to come up with irrational spur-of-the-moment justifications every time a craving hits or the pain spikes up or I just ache everywhere. It helps me to focus, to concentrate on whether or not I actually NEED the medication.

It helps.

One of the things I worry about more than anything else is that at some point the addiction will no longer be even remotely controlled. I refuse to let it run my life... but it IS there, I know that. Left on my own, I know perfectly well I'd take more than I technically needed, more often than I need, which is why I asked Ryan to help me out in the first place.

It's kind of embarassing to realize that it's already on the edge of dangerous-and-stupid. I DO realize it, though.

That's the only thing keeping me from really panicking about it - I recognize it, I realize it's there, and I am slowly finding more and better ways to deal with it and go on with my life.

*sighs*

A month without pain, without drugs, without depression, without anxiety... right now that's my goal.