I got into a minor car accident. I am fine my car is fine. The Mercedes I hit is dented and bumper fucked up. Of course I hit them in the back, which makes it my fault. All this lead me to admit to my mother I am depressed. I think I have known for a while that I am depressed. It took something traumatic for me to admit it.
What the hell am I am going to do about it. I have no idea. I know I should be beyond happy. With my child she is my endless joy. With my job not so much. With my social life it is practically dead. I miss my friends in Georgia. I know I wanted to come home. Which I don’t regret. I have not lived here in 15 years. So I don’t have relationships with people I had in Georgia. My life is very bland. I can’t wait until Ava is older and we can hang out a little more.
One day at a time. It is Saturday night. Ava is asleep and I am about to go to bed at nine. This is so pitiful. I know things will get better. I need to figure out how to feel better. I am not in a good place.