depression sucks

I've been back on my full dose of Lexapro since June 10, but today I'm feeling very very depressed. The car is extremely low on gas and we have to go to Lisa's mother's house tomorrow. I managed to scrape up $2 in change; we should get to the nearest gas station on what is in the tank but $2 won't take us very far. It's a 22 mile round trip to her mom's and back.

She gives us a little money every third time or so that we go over there to work, but she clearly doesn't understand that I have other errands to run. And looking for work takes fuel as well. She bitches that I don't have a job, but I can't afford to run all over the Smoky Mountains looking for a job on the little money we bring in.

Thank God our car gets great mileage.

It is also depressing to look for work. I've never been any good at it. "Show your face", I keep hearing from Lisa and her mother, despite the fact that nearly everywhere that offers full-time employment tells me to apply online. Their hiring departments often aren't even located at the business site.

On Wednesday I dropped off my application at a local BBQ joint, and was told to come back the next day after 2 PM because Wednesday is the boss's day off. Of course, after driving 120 miles around the lovely countryside trying to find Lisa's medications, I didn't have enough gas to get to the restaurant.

Today I filled out yet more applications online with CareerBuilder, Kelly Services and others. I haven't heard a peep about any job that I've applied to since ... I don't know. At least a dozen years. I guess it was 1997, when I got a job designing circuit boards at EMA in New York.

When I do go back to "show my face," I'm told that they aren't hiring. There goes another gallon of gas and there goes my hopes. Again.

Lisa's depressed because she needs television to keep her mind off of her pain. We can't afford the upfront cash needed to get a $20/month satellite TV plan. And her depression rubs off on me.

I don't feel like cooking. I don't feel like eating. It rained good and hard this afternoon, which we needed, but I don't want to go walking with Rocko because my feet will get soaked. And he keeps asking to go out, then comes back to the front porch within a few minutes and whines. He knows that we're both down, and is probably trying to get me to go out because it'll make me feel better. I scold him for whining and then feel guilty about it.

Shit. Reading over what I just wrote, it sounds pathetic. Oh well. It's only a blog. Roll the presses.

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