I wish the truck would just park somewhere else

I feel like I have a truck parked on my chest. This happens to me from time to time. It is sometimes caused by a certain upset or fret. Sometimes it is more free floating. Sometimes it starts out free floating and then I add tonnage to the truck so it sits there good and solid.

I imagined when I retired that I would be able to stop taking the anti-depressant I have been on for the past 15 years. Today the sun is shining, spring looks like it is right around the corner, and I am dealing with an 18 wheeler parked on my chest.

No fair.

I tell myself I am just tired. That it is just because my feet are still sore if I do more that dishes and making the bed. But deep down I sometimes believe I have to resolve myself with the fact that this is it. This is who I am and what I have to live with and it is not about working, or not, fretting, or not, politics, or not.

Maybe it is just about me. Maybe despite the coming of spring I need to increase my dosage. Maybe after all these years I just have to accept that this is who I am and this is the medication I need to take to live a full life. Maybe.

I have been here before in March. Perhaps it has just been a long wet winter and I need summer to get here. Perhaps.

I just wish this truck would move on. I am sure it has places to go and things to do.

Maybe it's February

Maybe it is because my son is in the Yukon and I'm not.

Maybe it is because my friend is moving into a new house and I'm not.

Maybe it is because another friend is moving to a new city and I'm not.

Maybe it is because my daughter is in Halifax and I'm not.

Maybe it is because my sister is travelling to London and India, and I'm not.

Maybe it is just February.

Or maybe I just need a nap.

Until Spring.