Wednesday (Wish it Was Friday)

I haven't been writing as much lately as I might normally. This, I know, is always a bad sign. Last night when I asked about "hitting bottom," I don't think I really meant it. In the last 2 1/2 years, I have thought I'd hit bottom any number of times, thought, "It has to get better, because there's no way it can get worse." Almost invariably, it does get worse. I have rarely felt so completely isolated. Maybe I shouldn't say that when so many of you have made a point of reaching out to me in the past week--got a wonderful, happy, encouraging e-mail from Cort a couple of days ago! I've not yet replied. So maybe it's my own fault for feeling isolated. I don't know. All I really want to do is sit at home with my puppies (what could be nicer than puppies?) and read and drink tea. It's so hard to get anything done. It's like disappointment and discouragement and going to work and pretending that I'm OK takes up all my energy. And the maddening thing is that I don't know how I got this way, how everything degenerated to this point. But it'll get better. I have decided that starting right now, I'm making it better. I'm here, at work. I'm showing up and doing what I can. And at least I get to talk about interesting things. I guess that all I can do is keep putting one foot in front of the other, like I've always done, and trust that some day I will wake up and feel better about things. Anyway, I really hope that's how it works, because I don't know what else to do any more.