Pause

I wouldn't say I'm depressed. I've seen that in others and, fortunately, have yet to experience it myself full-force. No, I guess I'd rather say I'm feeling a little "compressed."

It's as if I were a jar, or a pressure cooker, take your pick. There's only so much room in the jar. There's only so much oxygen in the jar. And yet lots of stuff just keeps on getting crammed in, and it is getting more and more difficult to breathe.

The weekend was a tough one. Sunday was dreadful. It occured to me that most of my friends are wrapped up in their own shit, and maybe they've gotten so used to having others be there for them, that they can't be there for me. Or at least that was the case this weekend.

My sister and I talked on the phone a lot - an entertaining conversation mixed with pain and crying. Odd, really. But I am so happy that we are there for each other.

The cute thing is that she sent me a care package after reading the last post I wrote while feeling down (worse than this time, mind you). Her package is full of gluten-free comfort foods, which means she is not only totally adorable, but also an absolute rock star. On Monday morning - as I set out to do some really awful administrative tasks for the day - I found a slip in my mailbox saying my post office was holding a package for me.

It instantly made the whole day better. I organized myself so that I would get back to my 'hood before the post office closed. Even while sitting in front of The Bitchiest Administrative Woman Alive yesterday, I didn't let the fact that she got up and walked away from me mid-sentence get to me as much as usual because the thought of GF cookies was dancing somewhere in the back of my brain. I still believe that woman should be fired, but oh yes, I forgot, they don't do that in France.

Anyway, hours later, when I got to the post office, the line went out the door. But I wanted my gluten-free brownies, and bad! So I waited.

When I got to the counter, I gave the guy the slip. He shuffled around in the back a bit, and came back with a flimsy envelope.

Wha?

My checks had arrived from the bank. I needed to sign showing I had received them.

How upsetting to think you're going to get brownies, and instead you get checks. Checks that you can't even write because you don't have any money?

I guess that was just a side anecdote to keep me from rambling on about the glumness. There's a guy who is digging up the sidewalk on my street, and he starts jackhammering at 7.30 every morning. I hate him. I need sleep so much right now, and the sleep I have been getting is fitful and restless for the first few hours. It just starts getting good around 6 am. And then gets interrupted again at 7.30.

I know I need to cultivate the good things. I made a nice dinner yesterday. The Boy and I worked side-by-side for several hours last night, and we giggled and were lovey and things were cute. I wanted to stay up and continue, but I've been so tired that I had to give in by one.

I skipped Spanish yesterday, and Arabic this morning. This will all have to turn around tomorrow, because I can't sit here with this kind of guilt sitting on my shoulders -- I always feel bad about skipping classes. But I maintain that my cause was just. I desperately needed to recuperate.