Today is World Suicide Prevention Day.
Which is good timing as I am in a major depressive episode.
I've been trying to figure out what triggered it. There are several candidates.
1. Mourning the loss of MCM this year. Overall I feel good about the decision to postpone -- it was the right thing to do -- but I still feel like kind of a failure. Plus I wonder, will next year be different? I want it to be different. I always want that. I don't get there. I am sad.
2. I went to see Jim Gaffigan in concert Saturday night. For some reason, I noticed all the couples. Couples couples everywhere. I felt like the only single person in Keller Auditorium Saturday night. Am I doomed to be alone? I thought I didn't really care about that. Do I care? Do I? Why do I? A guy seems like a lot of work.
3. My good friend is getting married and I'm lucky to be one of her bridesmaids and I'm happy for them and about the upcoming wedding. But I feel like a nightmare bridesmaid -- no strapless dresses! No strapless bras! No spaghetti straps! Oh, and I don't wear heels either.... So not only do I feel like a shit friend -- it's all about her*, NOT me -- but then I wonder, is this why I'm single? I don't dress all cute, I don't wear heels, I don't wear makeup but once in a blue moon. I'm probably a shit person too. And again, why do I care? (About the single part, not about being a crap friend, that part bugs me. A lot.)
4. I don't want to do this legal research thing at the office. Because it's just going to become a big pain in the ass and I'm tired of that drama. There's something amorphous bothering me about work lately. I don't know what it is. I just don't want to be here very much lately.
5. I dreamed about my dog Maggie this weekend. With the kitties, my dogs haven't been in my thoughts much lately and I feel guilty about that. I miss my dogs very much.
6. The appetite thing bothers me. Do I just not care enough to eat? So then I've been eating grains lately -- because, hey, who cares? -- and now my stomach is all torn up. I'm eating poison on purpose. Why don't I care more about that? I should care.
I don't know how to end this so I will just say,
*I will suck it up and wear heels for the wedding. But the bra thing, think of it this way: Your wedding pictures will be SCARY if my boobs are down to my waist or spilling out over my dress and/or smacking me in the face.