Going on 9 days at 1 milligram

Carol reminded me this morning that the 2nd weekend after I drop .5 milligrams is usually a real bummer.

That would seem to be the case today (two weekends after my last reduction).  I am crushed by depression…nothing but negative “ideation,” about death, aging, decay, how there is no way out of this fucking situation of being almost 70 years old and hating it.  How all is gone, past, and over.

I can hardly hold my head up from fatigue, even though I managed to sleep last night, for the first time in several nights, clear through to 5:30 AM without being waked by the yowling cat.

Carol took cat to vet.  The vet reports that the cat has kidney disease plus high blood pressure. The latter may be the cause of her anxious yowling.  Carol got some meds for the cat’s various conditions.

These last two days–yesterday and into today–have been and are very difficult.  From noon I can’t believe I will make it to five. Yet I do.  I get through the day but the only point of that seems to be to get through the day.

I continue working out and will go to club today.  Yesterday, I did an hour on bike, 25 on elliptical, plus .5 mile swim.  I weigh 164 these days.  Good for my knees, I guess.

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