Spam is usually more offal than life is
The last few days have been strange.
Two days ago, I had what I can only describe as my best day since last Summer. I worked a short morning shift, and while I was there, a coworker invited me to pancakes. Apparently one of our former coworkers has been ranting about this deal iHop was having on Tuesday for nearly a week, 58¢ short stacks. Something about an anniversary for the company. After work, I made myself up and got a ride with my coworker to our friend's place. It felt so normal. I don't know what put me in such a decent mood, but I somehow managed to be upbeat the whole time.
I idolize normalcy to an unhealthy degree. My mind kept intruding, telling me how fucked up it was that I was so happy at experiencing things that were entirely normal for these people. Before, at work, I've mentioned how jelly I am of the nothing they did together hanging out, and they always scoff, laughing off how boring it is. They don't realize how much I want that in my life, and how much I don't have it. I crave the boring nothing. I don't think they realize just now not-nothing it really is. Sitting by a lake, bullshitting around in the sun? Joking with our waitress and telling bullshit stories of creepy guys hitting on us? Maybe this was everyday stuff for them, but maybe that's why they don't have intermittent suicidal ideation and I do. I don't have the sort of implicit support system they don't even have to think about.
When I got home, I connected with somebody I'd met recently, and we started bonding over some of the mental health issues we've had and continue to have. On a lark, we decided to get dinner. Maybe it's sad to say, but I don't think I've connected as openly and honestly on a first meeting with someone before. I felt like she could be a real friend. I slept soundly that night, with more hope for tomorrow than I'd had in months.
I felt so good when I woke up that I dressed up really cute, in a tee, a skirt, leggings, and boots. I haven't gone out cute in a long time. On my way home, I caught a guy creepshotting me, trying to subtly follow me with his phone while I walked toward and then past him. I flipped him off over my shoulder and kept walking home. That's what I get for dressing like I feel. I tried not to think about how sad this fucker's life must have been if he sees this as acceptable, something he thinks he even should do.
After my time out though, yesterday was much harder. In came the realization I hadn't had a day that good since last Summer with my, realistically speaking, former best friend; a friend who, over the past 6 months, has slowly distanced herself from me while chalking it up to whatever excuse. She says she's just a bad friend, and since my therapist has explicitly told me she's a total flake, I'm starting to believe that claim. I love the shit out of her, but I don't think I should be so willing to do anything for her if she demonstrably cares so little for our friendship. That sort of disparity does not a friendship make.
I fell asleep crying last night for the first time in a long time. I had to ask myself, do I have to wade through a year of the unbearable for each one day of real happiness? It was a red letting night. My medications have been numbing me to tears almost since I started taking them, but last night it all crashed in on me. Today I'm going to practice Bach's Prelude in G Minor from the Well-Tempered Clavier, Book II. Will report back.