Mild and hesitant progress

It seems that my meds kicked in. Fluoxetine tries its best to turn my stomach inside out when eaten before meal and upturned my sleep schedule but some ten days ago, I felt almost energetic. I went to work and instead of feeling that on the next corner, I'd die of sheer exhaustion, I walked and enjoyed the air and the movement and it was all nice.
I'm far from okay, though. It's about two years of a steep downward spiral. I feel better but I'm still very tired. I'm also horribly out of shape which makes me even more tired when I try for some physical activity. I'm worried about emotions because I grew terribly indifferent towards most things and very emotional, even sentimental, about a few and getting back to baseline might be quite interesting, as in "better be observed from another galaxy". My body seems to be in a constant state of threat - I'm crouching, not moving to go unnoticed and such. My personal hygiene habits suffered badly. I got used to not talking because I have nothing to add to the conversation anyway so why bother.

Whatever. It's not time to party and not caring has advantages because I don't care. Meantime, while I feel like doing something, I'll do some cleaning and decluttering. Depression ate my short-term memory so I'm somewhat aware that I for example bought things but I am not too sure what they were and where I dropped them so I'd better go through the random shopping bags. I may well vacuum the dead flies, too. And if things go well, I'll have a shower, too.

All the same

I must've mentioned many a time that I like when things are unremarkable. It means that there's no impeding disaster and being the boss, I am the one who solves problems. I hate dealing with problems caused by other people's stupidity and since my underlings are not the sharpest knives in the drawer, most of the problems are caused by negligence, lack of literacy (seriously, I can't believe that some of the folks passed the basic school) and several other sorts of idiocy not described by science yet.

My mother is having a tough time as well but apparently she's not losing good humour. She has a degree in theory of education or something along those lines and the stuff going on around here reminds her of a daycare for slightly retarded children. She thus promised to find me some courses in special education and social pathology to help me understand the mentality. I stopped planning to run away, not that I wouldn't want to but because I don't have enough mental capacity to plan something so complicated but from what I hear from other people, it's all the same all over the place with the exception of academia where one would need courses not in special education but rather cat herding and a double dose of social pathology.
Mom also wants me to make notes so that she could coauthor a book based on my experience. Which means that first, I'd need to move away, far, far away because the persons involved would recognize themselves and the persons not involved would recognize themselves too. If I get my caustic sense of humour back, though.

Seen my shrink and got new antidepressants. So far, I got a steaming helping of side effects so I sleep badly - not that I'd slept too well but there's always some space for worsening, right? - and I stopped eating almost entirely. Due to somewhat busy week, I've been nomming my dear benzos to prevent my head from exploding and I can't really judge my mental status. Or, I can, it's shitty but I haven't noticed any new variations of that shitty.

I'd add a gratuitous cat picture or something but my camera died and I can't afford a new one. Go and pet your own kitty.