I keep almost saying something and then swallowing it. What seems like the end of the world one day, often seems not so major the next. In hindsight I can tell myself to calm down and stop being so damn inconsolable but when I'm within "it", it's hard to see my way out. So I usually end up writing more when I'm semi- to not so much depressed, rather than when I'm seeming moderate to severe. Side note: I need some kind of color coded Nervous-Watch system to define how anxious, sad, angry, relatively normal I'm feeling (i.e. aqua would mean sad enough to feel sad for inanimate objects and hating myself for buying the wrong toothpaste, and so on.) Or not. Anyway. I think my point was that there are days upon days that I probably should write about, or talk to someone about, because these issues, well - they're not REALLY going away, they're kind of piling up as bad as the laundry at our house. I don't expect to feel great and sunshiney every day, it's just the lows get lower than usual this time of year and I'm not finding the best ways to cope with that. And then I feel GUILTY for not coping and blah blah shame spiral blah. I know I'm not crazy enough to not know when I'm being crazy - but well, self-realization is just a piece of the getting better puzzle and all.
The holidays, especially these last few years, have been getting to me. I know, they get to everybody and that doesn't mean people don't deal with them. I'll just say - most of the reason I'm writing this right now is from a less than pleasant talk I just had with my mom that I knew was coming. It's funny how I'll feel immediately 16 again - sorry that I said anything to her and wanting to go to my room and sulk. I feel like on one hand she does at least have an understanding of my... issues? illness? but on another she REALLY doesn't, and maybe still doesn't completely believe it and has a "oh just knock it off already" attitude about it. I don't know how to explain other than it just reinforces the guilt, shame and patheticness I was already feeling. Her voice got flat and short and she was starting that thing where she speaks slowly like to a child that's in trouble "Well whatever you're doing is obviously not working" and I sort of recoiled in a way and felt dumb and pathetic for bringing it up. And feel kind of dumb and pathetic writing about it but oh well. I'm sorry for not explaining this better and doing the stream of consciousness thing, and I'm also sick of being sorry. And maybe when the PMS dies down and there isn't the impending doom of winter storms and white-knuckled driving and everything falling apart or already being broken and the holiday stress bearing down, etc... then I will look at this more clearly.
Also, I need to shop and bake a mess of cookies. (Not a complaint, that's the bright side.)