was going to be my totally-relax-and-recover-from-Thanksgiving day, as we thought Brenda would still be coming back over the mountains from North Carolina. I was napping (of course--I've spent way too much time in bed this weekend) when I got a call at 2:30 pm that she was there are ready to play the game. I got up, got ready quickly, and she came and got me, and we had a good session with a surprise at the beginning that had to be dealt the rest of the time. In a way, getting back into my routine probably helped more than anything else in making me feel better and getting myself ready for the week ahead.
This morning, when I got out of the shower, a friend called and offered me a ride to work. So despite the rain, the new week is looking up.
I haven't actually talked about Thanksgiving, and I'm not going to, beyond saying it was good to see my grandmother and mom for a little while. But I felt awful when I got home, and it's taken me days to get better emotionally. I wrote not long ago on this blog that I had never had true suicidal thoughts. I realised the other night that it simply wasn't true. I have in the past, and I had them the night that I got home; they just weren't what I would call hard-core thoughts, where you're actually ruminating over how to do it. I spent Friday night curled up in bed having those fleeting depressive thoughts, being miserable, and wondering why I do this to myself year after year.
Saturday I went over to my friend's house to deliver the much-anticipated package (part of which was a present) and cleaned like I would for the game normally on Sunday, but more relaxed, and then he fed me a wonderful meal. We talked a lot and I felt better. But Saturday I still came home and went to bed. The bed is where I think, where I emote, and where I curl up and hide from the world. I spent a lot of time in bed the last few days, and I have a little more clarity for it. And now that I'm slipping back into my routine, I feel a little better.
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