Trying to be as brave as everyone seems to think I am.
I have at least progressed enough that I can say “I’m really depressed” to my brother in the morning without throwing a fit, or bursting into tears because he can’t just see that I’m depressed. I don’t like that look of concern he gives me when he knows I’m not doing well; he’s heard my darkest thoughts, and I know my suicide ideation frightens him.
He offered – and I accepted, tho reluctantly – to head off into town with him yesterday. Down to the comic shop, where I don’t really do much other than stand (or sit) and talk with the owners while my bro sorts thru comic bins looking for the few comics he’s missing in his runs (uh, comic story runs, not the runs in one’s pants). But it was okay. The guys are nice, and I get to hear real Dutch speakers speaking real Dutch as fast as real Dutch speakers speak. The store is moving to a new location this week, but I’ve been told that from their sort for the move they’ve found some Slave Labor Comics that I’ve got first pick of. Yea! Hopefully some Milk ‘n Cheese. They’re angry little bastards and always good for a laugh. Also picked up a Dark Horse indie with some early work from Moebius and the guys gave it to me for free, just asking for another batch of my blueberry muffins.
Then it was off to our local Turkish pizza shop for a deluxe Turkish pizza, warm and wrapped in aluminum, which we took outside and ate on a public bench in the fine weather.
And I felt okay. Okay to be out and in the world. I need to get out of this apartment MORE. Out, good. In this tiny apartment, looking at the same four walls, gazing out the windows like a prisoner from her cell – that’s not good.
Can I admit to not being okay when I’m alone right now? I know that’s not fashionable; we’re all supposed to be grown up and independent. But I need someone with me right now, just to keep my head out of my own ass. Distract me. Give me a hug and tell me it’ll be alright. Don’t let my mind go down those same, worn paths of worry. I’ve deep ruts in my psyche from doing that over the years.
Another 24 hour headache. Probably stress related.
Today is another battle in the war against depression. I’ll get to the housework I neglected yesterday. Get outside and walk in the sun. Find something to keep me occupied and amused. Find some way to help me pass the hours until I can sleep again.
How many battles can you lose and still win the war?