How Colorful is the World?

“Depression is being colorblind and constantly told how colorful the world is.”
— Atticus, Love Her Wild


I am depressed. There isn't any shame in admitting it. Everyone is entitled to feel depressed once in a while. I am bipolar, however, so depression tends to hit me harder than most. I take a tidy sum of medications for it. Those keep me on an even keel. However, when something is rightfully depressing me, the meds are not much help.

Get new meds? I would rather not, thank you. I took lithium when first diagnosed. A decade later, they prescribed it again. My not-brain organs hated it.

Don't wanna lock me up inside
Don't wanna forget how it feels without
I wanna stay in love with my sorrow

Sometimes it becomes necessary to embrace one's sorrow. You can do this provided you don't let it drown you; you need to make an informed decision for yourself that the depression is caused by a real event rather than the chemical imbalance. That's where your mental health professionals come in.

In other words, I need to sort the valid issue on my own or with my therapist.

Currently, I'm functioning on auto-pilot. I was beyond overwhelmed before the lender shit on us. Now I'm facing exactly what I feared I would face if we remained where we currently are: my disabilities impact the necessary tasks that I need to do.

I could easily take care of Jeff while he recovers, and do the laundry, and cook or fetch things from downstairs - but the nerve damage makes stairs into an excruciating effort.  I have excitedly waited on the home loan to go through so I could do all that with ease. Laundry and kitchen on the first floor! Halls wide enough for a walker or wheelchair for Jeff. 

Currently, I feel that I'm failing Jeff. He deserves the best and my best sucks.

But there's more than that. I was excited by the knowledge that we would be out of the city. Rural but not too rural, if that makes any sense to you. I even changed my blog theme to match the tranquil feel of that property. I am leaving it as it is. A byline change works for me.

Part of me wants to keep looking, and going with an FHA loan.The other part tells me to save up $1k a month for the next 9 months. That will get us moving towards the VA loan.

I don't know the answer. I do know that I can not properly function in a house with a bathroom up or down a flight of stairs, with laundry two floors down from our room, or with all my things rotting in storage. I was almost there, almost where I needed to be in order for us to spend our autumn and winter years independent and in a handicap-accessible home.

That last statement, more than anything, is the genesis of this depression.