Circling the drain

Fireworks in 3-D

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

I had put 3-D glasses over my camera as I watched the Fourth of July fireworks from the beach, and this is one of the many intriguing shots I got. It’s neat to look at things through different eyes. Maybe I’ll staple those glasses to my head for a week and see if I don’t generate a total new outlook.

The Bad Mood That Never EndsTM continues to make my heart too heavy to carry around in my chest. I remember feeling this “meh” when I first moved to D.C. I figured I’d get over it. I figure I WILL get over it. But what, exactly, am I getting over?

More specifically, where is the light at the end of the tunnel? Even if it IS an oncoming train, a girl needs some light, yo.

I’ve intimated that my glumness is rooted in part in missing my friends. It’s a trifecta of total desperation that’s got me by the ass, but let’s focus on that factor today.

I was asked if I could bring any 3 or 5 people to see me in Florida (from D.C.), who would it be? Four of the five people I named were old colleagues.

Nothing against the “non-work” friends, but when I had to keep giving up social event after social event, who was I spending that time with? My work friends. AT WORK. Whose company I was very lucky to enjoy.

So as I was talking about people and places I missed today, the revelation came out of the mouth of this particular babe, “What’s the big deal, really? I’ve been missing my friends FOR FIVE YEARS.”

I think that’s what’s stuck in my craw on the friend front. That, jeez, I had all these incredible people in my life that I didn’t see.

Sure, I had my weekends off and there were lots of group events with my different groups. But one-on-one time? Hangout time? Go shopping time? Just chill time? Not so much.

Was it my own fault? Absolutely. Sure, a lot of things were out of my control, with great events happening on weeknights but me being another state away, captive in a cube, didn’t help matters. The ability to gnaw at the restraints was there; just not always the magical opportunity of energy + ability.

I guess it’s been obvious to more than just me that I haven’t smiled in a good six weeks. I don’t even try to fake it anymore.

What bothers me is that I CAN’T fake anything anymore. When I started at my last job, I was as broken as a human being could be. Five months without a job, no money and one foot off the cliff toward losing everything, and I hid it from everyone.

Maybe I didn’t do as good a job as I thought in hiding my metric buttload of pain, but it was onward and upward, y’know? And even though things weren’t ideal for that first year and a half, they became OK.

Things were never easy, but I was cool with OK. Good work, great skill set, excellent team — all blessings worthy of counting twice.

Of course, I had about a minute and a half of happy, when I got an apartment I liked and even though I was a state away from my friends, the alleviated commute actually did wonders in curing my then-high blood pressure.

Fast-forward to inheriting the OEH, and I was never the same again.

So here I am in this whole new life that looks EXACTLY like the life before. So why am I so violently down in the damn dumps? Because unlike then, I can’t just go see a familiar face or do a beloved pastime.

Not that I really did much of that, especially toward the end, but that’s where a big part of the mental blockage is taking place. That when I had the opportunity, I either couldn’t or just didn’t. That maybe in my own way, I wasn’t necessarily circling the drain, but I was definitely running the water.

Especially when it came to dieting in the last year, I gave up all my “favorites,” thinking I’d get back eventually for special occasions. But man, what I would not GIVE for some carrot cake from Balducci’s right now. :9

A good friend gave me some great advice: That I don’t have to let the elevator go all the way down to the basement. Get off at the 10th floor while I still can.

To that end, I’m getting mass encouragement to take the new apartment and a studio for the OEH. Let’s say the financial worry can go away if I want it to. People are willing to help. Nay, people are THAT willing to get me out of this funk that they will MAKE IT HAPPEN FOR ME.

On one hand, a girl wonders what she did to deserve that. On another hand, a girl feels like shit that she can’t get her fucking act together and at least lie to the world the way she used to be able to.

On yet another hand (what am I, an octopus?), everyone’s right that not only do I deserve some happy, but that I owe it to myself and everyone invested in me to really give this new life a fair shot.

I just don’t know that I have enough left in me to add ONE MORE THING to my plate. Is my mental health worth one last investment, or is that going to be what finally decimates me into a flaming puddle of goo?

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