I know I need to make a meeting. My recovery must come first or all else will just disappear.
I don't think that is all, though. There is more going on than that.
I keep returning to the Violent Femmes. That one line: "do you know what it's like to hate, when it's way down deep inside?"
This happens in the mornings. The physical pain that overpowers my muscles, the raging thought processes that lead me down horrid pathways in my mind, the tears that are increasingly hard to hold back. Sunshine believes it's my job that is making me so sad. I hope like hell that's all it is. I mean, it looks like classic depression in many ways. It could be hormonal; it could be nutritional. With my history, it could be so many different things. But who can afford Gregory House these days?
Which leaves me looking at the parts I can afford to fix. Myself, meaning my attitude and perspective.
What I feel sure of is that there is no chemical solution to my problem. Which means that I need to make a meeting. I need to find time to job hunt, and I need to figure out how to do that without completely quitting my current job (because in this economy it's much easier to find a job if you already have one and therefore don't NEED one). I need to take more time to do things Cindylouwho likes to do. I need to remember that there IS more to life than work, laundry, & grocery shopping.
I had a delightful meltdown a week ago, shopping and fossil hunting and drinking smoothies. I need to find more of those moments on a daily basis, because they make living in the moment more like living.
Because the meaning of life is to live a meaningful life.
And I should be doing more. I should be doing something more meaningful with my life.
There absolutely is more to life than work, laundry, and grocery shopping.
I think I need to go find my favorite bass player and one of the greatest stagehands I know and go play some fucking air hockey. Because, really, air hockey is even more frivolous than shoes. I need to demand that Sunshine take me to see a movie, because movies are the perfect place to wear frivolous shoes (and escape from reality for a couple hours). I need to go re-learn how to live, y'all. Because the social acceptability I have been drudging through does not equal recovery and it is not living.
Since when did I care about social acceptability any damn way?
Four more days of drudgery to go. Here's hoping I make it without completely crying in public, because snot is not my idea of pretty.