Yesterday Drob told me he was concerned that I seemed “out of control.”

Oh, I thought, you noticed?

Only, I don’t know if “control” is the right word. I think maybe slightly out of order might be accurate. I don’t really feel right. I am not getting enough done, perhaps. Or I’m finding myself in these brain loops, my thoughts disorganized and swirl from one topic to another.

Last weekend I also stayed up all night and didn’t even feel tired. I felt perfectly alert and just kept doing housecleaning. I was doing very thorough cleaning. I cleaned WALLS and FLOORS. I scrubbed down places that hadn’t been cleaned, well, ever. I took down a dirty curtain from a window, washed it, was dissatisfied with the result, and then I attempted to dye it red. It came out pink, but I like it anyway.

Was that a manic night? I wonder? I did it because my mom was coming to visit. I did it because my house seemed to be so dingy and dirty. I did it because I was worried about Lucky, and rightly so, since he died a couple days later. I wanted to get my house to a comfortable state.

Now, we’re a few days later. The house is falling apart again. I guess this house really requires a daily vigilance, and for that, I don’t seem to have the where-with-all.

Daily laundry, daily dishes. What I’m doing instead? I’m thinking. I’m reading email. I’m relating to people. I’m thinking and planning for my job working with children. I’m researching projects for the summer camp I’m going to run. I’m wondering how to get more kids to sign up for camp. There’s much to think about– and my internal dialogue sometimes prevents me from getting things done in the real world.

This morning I didn’t feel like taking a shower. I’d taken one yesterday, and still felt perfectly clean. But D wanted me to shower– we used to always shower together. (Most couples do this, right?) I just wanted more sleep. Am I slacking in my hygeine? Is this a depression thing?

My real test for whether I am having bad depression problems is when thoughts of death go through my head. This hasn’t been happening, at least not like it did in the past. I have had fleeting death thoughts, like WHAT IF kind of thoughts, which are not the same as COME HITHER, OH GRIM REAPER or the sad, self-hating kind of I DESERVE TO DIE, I AM A VILE PIECE OF TRASH…. these thoughts have been unwelcome visitors to my mind in the past.

I am glad that I’m not thinking these kinds of thoughts, as they are very upsetting. I am mostly doing pretty well. A few times recently, however, I’ve found the kind of death thought showing up that run along the lines of “Oh, dear, it would be such a SHAME if I couldn’t go to work today, like, if I got run over by a bus because my shoelace was undone and I tripped and the bus driver happened to not notice me…..”

Or, “Gee, I sure hope my kitten wasn’t actually rabid and we didn’t know it…. he did bite me three times. I sure hope I don’t die from rabies. Who would teach in my place?”

These implausible, unlikely, and uncomfortable thoughts of death are quite fleeting. But are they a symptom of my depression worsening? I guess I could ask my doctor. Wouldn’t that be a revolutionary thought?