I haven't written in a long time. I feel like I start a lot of these stories like that, it's some sort of an excuse I tell myself, or an apology I issue myself, or it's the ice breaker at the party that is my depression journal.
The highlights, my mom is divorced and miserably living in a co-op retirement community about 5 miles away from us. We don't see her any more often then when she was living 20 miles away in a miserable marriage she hated being in. The moral here is, she hates being in things, I just hope the hate doesn't spill into our house since she's so much closer now, I don't know the contamination radius of hate, I should look it up.
I ran into my dad over the summer, shared a table with him and some new woman he brought to my cousin's high school graduation party. It was odd. Afterwards I felt nothing, I didn't want to know him, I didn't want to reconnect. It was the first time that has happened. He's never met my youngest kids before, and although he was cordial, he didn't make a big deal about meeting them.
Aside from that, I'm depressed. Oh yea, I'm also depressed.
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