Okay. We have finally arrived at the point in life where I am capable of human interaction again.

Good Grief. That was awful. Yesterday I heard a song on the radio that reminded me of how sad I was a few months ago, and I felt this rush of empathy for myself as if that me from two months ago was someone else entirely, and I cried and cried for her – right up until I got back to the job site, because Brother is still traumatized from all those weeks of dragging me to work puffy-eyed and sobbing, and if I showed up crying AGAIN, he’d probably lose his mind.

I’ve never been so sad. I don’t even know what to say about it. I’ve experienced loss before, but feeing as though everything is lost all at once and there is nothing left to hold on to and feel good about?? Heavens. That was overwhelming. I completely lost track of how many times I wished I could die instead of keep going.

I learned a lot though. I think I’m a brat, for one thing. I’m not sure that I used to be. Maybe I’ve gone a little soft in the last few years? Maybe I used to assign more positive meaning to my “sufferings”? Maybe I’m not as young as I used to be? I don’t know. I don’t suppose it matters either. Just work on it. Everything can’t go my way all the time. I can still be okay.

I want to be more empathetic. I think I have always been so happy that I’ve never really understood what it is to be depressed. I’m sure I still don’t. I suffered a random conglomeration of disappointing circumstances in a huge pile that I had to dig out from under. Once I was out from under it, I slid easily and comfortably right back into my habitual happy-as-happy-can-be state. That’s not depressed. That’s just a bummer. Not to discount my experience, but certainly other people endure far worse for much longer. I’m not entirely clear on how this knowledge needs to affect my daily life, but I’m sure that it does.

I would like to take this opportunity to sincerely apologize for the times in the last twenty five years when you were profoundly sad and I didn’t get it and thusly did not act appropriately. I’m sure there have been such times. It’s not that I don’t love you, I hope you know/knew that. I just didn’t know what it was to feel that way, and I certainly did not know how to support someone else in that space. I’m sorry.

I don’t know that I’m very good at letting people love me either. Jesus! The first thing I did when life when down the shitter was hide. From everyone. I was so consumed by my own embarrassment, I couldn’t see any point in human interaction. A few people pushed hard enough that I sucked it up and hung out, but even then I put such a game face on that they’d never have known what I was really doing to myself internally. I don’t care for that. I even recognized while I was doing it that it was wrong and unnecessary and I didn’t like it, but I just couldn’t flip the switch. I wouldn’t think badly of someone else just because their whole life evaporated one day, why should I suppose anyone is going to think badly of me for it? And if they do, they’re a fucking asshole, so why should I care? UGH. It is HARD though, isn’t it? I mean, I just couldn’t even.

The worst part was, it wasn’t even real. I had so much more than I realized. Why was I so mean to myself? I was okay. I mean, being homeless was sub-optimal, but as homelessness goes, I was pretty lucky. I had a car to sleep in when I had to, and ultimately it was very short-lived because there were enough people around to care about me that I got to be homeless in a bed or on a couch more often than not, so there was cause for joy. Lots of people have to be homeless with much less. And with much less hope of resolving the situation.

And now? Two months later. Two. Fucking. Months. It is amazing how quickly life can flip one way or the other.

Do you know how long I have wanted to be a bartender?? AGES. I didn’t think I’d ever get into it, because I’m already old. Seems like you have to work into it. I don’t have time for that shit. Nope. Perfect gig (Perfect. Literally. If you saw how well suited to this I am, you’d absolutely roll your eyes and have to stifle some sort of gag reflex. It’s ridiculous.) falls into my lap, basically. Not that my “interview” performance wasn’t on point (I sent a text to my friend who owns the bar, saying: “I have never done this before, but I have a feeling I’d probably be good at it.” I started the next day…), but I believe my being hired had more to do with their level of desperation. In any event, there I am, having the time of my life and making money at it. Then I find the world’s cutest apartment, cheap enough that I can afford it on nothing more than my part-time bar income, AND I get to spend a fair amount of time hanging out with my favorite fella.

I’m not sure I ever really stopped being the luckiest girl in the world, I just got dramatic and lost sight of the realities of things, but I sure am right back to it now. I feel a little guilty about being so happy now that I realize how awful it is to be sad. I wonder what to do about it? There must be something. I’ll have to think on it.

Anyway, I’m sorry for being so selfish for a while. I’ll try to be better now.


How are you? I’m going to try and visit again in the next month or so. And you should certainly come down to see me when you can. I have friends now! It’s quite thrilling. We go to karaoke and drink far more than I’m used to. I could do without that last part, but there’s a price to be paid for every good thing, I guess… 😉


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