A Mess

Humans are simultaneously the most fragile and most resilient species on Earth. Injuries that would kill an animal-a sprained ankle, a cut-are considered minor injuries to us. Colds? Nothing. Headaches? Pah!  We can poison our bodies with tobacco and alcohol for years, and our bodies start improving only twenty minutes after we stop. It's fucking incredible. We can beat cancer. Through sheer will to live, we can overcome nearly everything.


We make a much bigger deal out of our symptoms than we need to. Even when we don't take an injury seriously, we don't hesitate to let everyone know. "Hi, how you doing?" "Oh, just have this cold!" Though we aren't suffering, we let everyone know.

Ironically, it's when we're truly suffering that we don't let on. I've never been able to figure out if it's pride, or a desire to not feel like a burden by unloading our issues onto another person.

This is especially true when we're not feeling our best mentally. Some people develop ways to cope-they exercise, write, they take a small vacation. Others haven't developed enough coping mechanisms, or strong enough ones.

I am the second kind.

There is something very wrong. I can't figure out where it came from or what it is, but it's a funk I can't shake. It started out as a bad day here and there, nothing bad enough to even notice. Everyone has bad days, right? But there started to be a string of them. All of a sudden, I can't remember the last time I was happy. I've been ripping the skin of my lips, I've been moody. I'm at work, and I can see that there are three emails in my inbox that I do not even have the strength to answer(I'm usually not here this late anyway, so it's ok-right?) I either can't sleep or sleep too much, I can't focus, I don't want to go places.

And poor him, he's been on the wrong end of everything. I woke up the past few mornings just angry at him for reasons I can't find. This morning, I didn't say a word until I was getting ready to leave. He jumped up and hugged me tightly. I almost broke down crying.

I have to keep it together. He's still not back to work. The bills are on me, and he's worried about enough things. I can't burden him with this(though he confessed last week that he has been worried about me, despite whatever front I can manage to put up). I have to sit behind this desk and keep a straight face, hold it together, and wait for the storm to pass. Even hurricanes don't last forever.